RWBY - The Calming Storm
by Rico417
Summary: Falling rains and gentle breezes make soothing noises. Whereas one might become nervous or scared when a storm approaches, I find solace in the very thing that killed me. Making landfall in Remnant? I'll make it look easy. (Inspired by Reiteration.) SI/OC
1. Life Before Death

I woke up this morning with more news of the typhoon about to hit my little island. Overnight, the group chats that I were in blew up with information on what the status of the typhoon would be. Typhoon Mangkhut would be a big one.

Category IV, with winds of 74 miles per hour as early as Tuesday and potentially higher later on? Yeah, this is gonna make life boring for a few weeks.

"Nick, get in the shower!" I heard from my room, my mom making her presence and awoken state obvious. I stretched out, feeling all the muscles in my body burn with a pleasant sensation. You know that twitching thing your leg does when you stretch super far? That feels great.

Another call of my name signaled for me to actually get out of the mess of sheets that I call my bed. Grabbing my towel, I made my way to the shower. My dog, though, sat in front of me in the hallway.

"Move," I said in my sleepy stupor, already wanting to go back to sleep. "Move, Cookie," I repeated, her ears flopping in response to my voice. She stood up and walked past me, letting me reach down just enough to scratch her behind her ears. She still looked up at me, brown eyes scanning me and my towel.

I released eye contact with the brown dog and finished my 10 foot journey to the shower. I stood outside the shower curtain while I waited for the water to warm up just a little.

My family stopped using hot water 2 years ago, since colder water helps us wake up faster. Some people think of crazy or profound things while they clean themselves. I think about how I wished the water was warm.

Walking back to my room to dry off and change, I noticed that Cookie hadn't moved from the spot she was at before I got in the shower. Her eyes still watched me as I slowly walked past her yet again, cautious not to slip. I unplugged my phone for the day and skimmed through group chat after group chat, learning more about the typhoon before coming upon one of my close friends wishing me a happy birthday. The next messages after that were of a similar vein; happy birthday messages from more people. All of them friends.

I thanked all of them for remembering. I doubt it would be the end of that today. I hoped.

A low pounding echoed into my room from the other bathroom, my mom yelling at my dad to hurry up in the shower. I grabbed a casual set of clothes out of my dresser and got ready to leave, wondering to myself if I should bring my 3DS to work. Deciding against it, I stored my "lucky" comb and phone into my pocket and waited for my dad to get ready. The early morning sun was muffled by the light gray clouds that hung in the sky, a prelude to the impending storm coming.

"Happy birthday, Nick," my mom wished to me. I outgrew her 4 years ago, but she would claim that she was shrinking instead. I didn't inherit her curly hair, but you could tell I'm Filipino like she was by the way I did things.

"Thanks mom," I responded, managing to put on a light smile despite feeling exhausted from just waking up. Shortly after that my dad practically ran into the laundry room to get his work clothes out and put his shoes on the fastest I'd ever seen him.

"17 years old," he drew out, patting me on the back with a large hand. "Happy birthday, buster." My dad was a large man, with a clean shaven face and round belly. Ever since he quit the Air Force, he had gained weight. That's what my mom would say, anyway. I wasn't born when he was still in the military.

"Thanks, dad." Yawning, I stood up and made my way to the door so I could get in the car. Today we were taking the minivan without air-conditioning since my brothers weren't going to open the southern branch of our family business.

My family owns a bakery. Exciting, I know. Getting up at 5:30 every other morning to run deliveries with my eldest brother is becoming a challenge to me. Waking up at 7:30 to open the other branch with my mom and dad is honestly boring, if not easier. However, I would not trade anything for this. Working at a bakery has a slow pace, and delivering in the morning gets me home early to do things I like, like play some Destiny 2 or XCOM. Working slow shifts at the other branch gives me time to do more creative things, like my homework and not fail Senior year. That and procrastinate on continuing on my other fic.

Today in particular was different from other days though. With a powerful typhoon on approach, more customers came in to buy some bread. The droll satisfaction of seeing a customer finally leave is something that might concern some people, but is nonetheless fulfilling. Aside from being busier than normal, the day passed with little incident.

On my way home, I took a nap in the car. During that nap I dreamed of colors, of sounds. My mom had woken me up shortly before we pulled into the driveway to our house, urging me to hurry up and get inside before the rain got heavier.

The winds were picking up. The clouds let down small sprinkles of water. Things would be getting much worse, and soon. I grabbed the American flag from its post in front of my house, rolled it up and brought it in. Cookie was waiting next to the couch in the living room, near where the front door was. I met her eyes again and waited for my dad.

My dad finally found the vice grips needed to unscrew the bolts to our window shutters. Years of disuse made them resistant to motion, but some force would make them give way. He handed me the vices and told me to close the shutters. Should have been easy enough.

I threw on my rain jacket and went outside again. Just about 10 minutes and the rain was pouring. The powerful winds pushed against me. Out into the yard, I heard a tree branch snap from its precarious balance. I needed to hurry if I didn't want to get sick. Stepping into the yard rewarded me with a splash and wet socks. The gales were cold, sending rain sideways straight into my face.

The white shutters in front of the windows rattled in the storm. Moving around the house, I methodically closed and locked each one. I came to my room's side of the house with the last 2 shutters when the wind picked up exponentially.

The white noise of howling gusts and unsettlingly cold feeling of being drenched made itself even more known to me now. I had to push against the side of the house with winds these strong. I almost lost my balance a few times. Amidst the cacophony of water hitting pavement, I could hear another set of shutters being closed by the nextdoor neighbors, if only barely.

I quickly closed off the 2nd to last shutter and jogged over to the next, not wanting to be in the rain any longer.

Through the window, I saw Cookie looking out past me. I was expecting her to just stare at me close the shutter. This time, though, she started barking. Peering over my shoulder showed me nothing. With the rain falling so hard, and the clouds being so dark and thick I could hardly open my eyes, let alone see more than a few feet in front of me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another one of the trees next to my house swaying towards the house.

In an instant, a blinding bolt of lightning and deafening thunder clap overwhelmed my senses. A high-pitched ringing remained in my ears and my vision had small white spots swimming around. A sharp pang of agony shot down through my body.

My vision cleared and I looked down at the side of my chest to see a long fragment of sharp hardwood lodged in my side, just underneath my armpit. Adrenaline rushed into my bloodstream.

That's all I can remember.


	2. Restart

Through some twisted turn of fate or as the truth of afterlife, I was born again. A fresh new life to start with? Great. I'll take it.

Being born gave me another bout of intense pain. I couldn't tell what exactly happened, since all of my senses were out of all kinds of whack, but I could definitely tell you that it hurt like hell. I needed a way to let out this torment, something to lessen it. I tried to yell out, but could only scream and cry.

The only thing I recognized feeling was the ringing noise when the thunderbolt struck. The doctors who delivered me from my new mother and my new father talked in muffled voices. Through the ringing was a constant beeping, most likely the heart monitor for my new mother.

All of a sudden, it sped up. New Mom started screaming again. I was wrapped in a sterile white cloth and handed to New Dad, who took me hurriedly and held me awkwardly.

I must admit, I miss being held like this. Being held carefully and tightly. Being held like I was precious and fragile... It moved me. I started crying again, this time through the dull pain that had just subsided. In a short moment, I thought I would be going into a new world without a mother, but my worry faded as the doctors beheld something I had always wanted: a younger sibling.

I used to be the youngest of 4 children, the runt of the litter. Now, that will change! I hoped.

It was a second after I saw the second child that my ears became clear. Aside from the bawling my counterpart was emitting, in very clear English, the doctors asked my new dad for my name.

"For the boy?" One doctor with a clipboard asked. Her pen was at the ready.

"He will be..." New Dad looked over at New Mom. "...Gainsboro."

I thought to myself, with short, abstract thoughts worthy of being called infantile. _'Gainsborough? England?'_ As if he could read my thoughts, he justified,

"Like the shade of gray."

I found that unusual. He means to name me Gainsboro? Like the strange off-white gray? Instead of the town? Without missing a beat, he added,

"He has my gray eyes and I'd bet my hair too," as though I were saying what I were thinking. He nodded with an air of finality. The doctor then asked,

"And the girl?" which prompted 2 questions from me: "My twin is a girl?" and "Will she look like me?"

New Dad looked at New Mom one more time, this time letting me see her. While her eyes were red from the trauma and pain, her irises were already red. The purple bags beneath her eyes and dark brown, frizzled hair made her look like she just woke up from being unconscious.

She waved her hand to New Dad like "You name them" and leaned back.

"Huh," he vocalized. Apparently, he hadn't thought of a name for my sister, who was presently crying in another doctor's arms. The doctor stood in front of my dad and cooed to the girl, trying to get her to calm down. It was working, if her quieting down was any indication. "Red eyes too..." dad said pensively. He was like this for about 5 minutes until, out of nowhere, mom said,

"Desiree. Like desire. Like the red," in neat, succinct sentences. The doctor looked to dad, he shrugged, and she wrote the name down.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Argent. You have 2 more beautiful children."

The doctor said 2 more? Great. Now I'm not the oldest anymore. Thinking of getting practically bullied by my older siblings made me irritated and tired. I didn't want to deal with that shit again.

I fell asleep fast in my dad's arms. Time for a restart, I guess.

 **WEEK 1**

I really don't want to be a baby again. Baby food tastes bad and... excreting myself is humiliating. Everytime I get hungry, I can't control my emotion of disliking baby food so much to not force my infant body to cry. Everytime I... shit myself, I cry for having to deal with the feeling and the inevitable cleaning that I hated so much now. At least I dont have to think about my future.

Back to the topic of older siblings, I only had 1. 1 older sister of 5 years. She had a weird hair color: a sort of dull mahogany. You could say it was either gray or red and still be correct. Her name? She was Cinna. Cinna Argent.

These are some weird names.

I still haven't managed to learn either of my parents names, though I hope I will soon. Since New Mom is the one who's staying home taking care of all the children - including me, now - I should learn hers fairly soon.

 **WEEK 4**

I expected to learn Mom's name first but completely forgot that moms make their children call them either mom or mommy or momma. New Mom prefers just Mom.

In a small argument my parents had, I managed to hear Mom call my dad "Grey."

Whether this is a nickname or his actual name is up for speculation.

Either way, I fumbled out my first word sometime after that. In a bid to get something to drink - because I was fucking parched - I attempted to speak. The underdeveloped vocal cords and tongue of an infant aren't to be underestimated. However, through all of the weird gurgles and cooes I made, I slipped out "gray."

It instantly got his attention from the kitchen, but he didn't give me a water. He instead yelled,

"HONEY! Little G said his first word!" Then he came over to me and started poking me and tried to get me to say it again. I was still thirsty, so I tried doing it again. Mom came into the room, followed by Cin - which was Cinna's shortened name - and started cooing to me too. I did say it again, but the idiots still didn't get me water or whatever.

Then I remembered there was another way to get them to give me my milk.

As much as I hated it, I cried. At least I could say that it definitely worked?

 **MONTH 1**

So I learned that Desiree managed to squeak out Mom's name. Mom and Dad got into another argument. Dad almost got to yelling at Mom, if it weren't for Desiree saying her first word, "Car," which got the attention of both of them since Mom's name is Carmine.

I was able to hear what their argument was about. Well, a little. Dad was getting irritated with some person at work, Jacques or Jack. Mom said to lay off and let it be, but Dad disagreed, saying "He seems small now, but he has Alice wrapped around his finger."

Then Desiree said her first word and the entire conversation was dropped.

Ah, parenthood.

I also have suspicions that the world I'm on isn't Earth.

Let me explain.

All of the names I have heard so far, sans Jacques/Jack and Alice are kind of... different. Carmine, Cinna, Desiree? Red. Grey (I learned that this is indeed my dad's name, as he wrote it down on some sort of contract or manifest) and Gainsboro? Gray.

I once saw my dad turn on the television set that didn't look like a television set. While I am used to flat screens, I am not used to "glass screens" where the screen and really the entire set was just what seemed like a large glass pane. What was on the TV was concerning.

It was a news broadcast. At first it was just a news anchor. This anchor, though... Light purple hair? What the hell?

There's even more. After a brief summation of events in very fast, unintelligible English, there was some footage that I didn't understand.

First off, the footage was of nothing. It was just a screen of black. Or seemingly nothing. The black started shifting and moving, and there were red lights and pale white specks in the blackness. As if we could understand what that was, some live footage came up of a train. It wasn't moving, in fact, it looked like it was stuck. Out of nowhere, something black fell on the train and then more black fell and then... Static. The footage was cut off. It was at this point that Dad started crying. Mom held a hand in front of her mouth and grabbed the remote.

Right before she turned it off, I saw the headline:

"Mountain Glenn overran by-" then the screen shut off.

I'd never heard of a "Mountain Glenn," but it was a familiar name. I felt down inside of me like it was a place I knew.

It must have been a tragedy. Something told me it was.

 **MONTH 6**

God, I hate baby hands. They're so small and inaccurate and weak and soft.

I just hate being a baby in general. It's humiliating. I believe I said this before.

Well, it got even more humiliating when I was introduced to more people. I didn't even try to remember them except for the fact that a lot of people on my dad's side had gray hair, no matter their age. The older folks had lighter gray or just plain white hair.

Moving on, being carried everywhere is fun and all, but I would like to try to get on my legs. I did so once, but keeping balance has been so damn hard. I am getting a hang of it, though. I might be able to start walking soon.

Cin is turning into a "responsible" kid. She's been doing simple things like bringing me or Desiree our milk or just trying to entertain us. It doesn't really work for me, but I think I'll manage being treated like a child by her.

A lot of my little cousins back home treated me like I was around their age. I humored them and told jokes and did silly things around them.

I miss home. I wanted to do a lot with my life yet... I didn't know what I could do with it. I didn't know then, so how could I have known now? A new life? I could correct the little mistakes, but until I prove beyond a reasonable doubt that whatever world I'm on isn't Earth, I can't tell.

Maybe I'll be a doctor like my old parents and grandparents wanted me to be. Maybe I'll join the military like my old dad and his dad. Maybe I'll do something useful.

God, I miss home.

 **MONTH 8**

I did it! I'm walking! Albeit, rather clumsily and with a few minor hiccups, but I did it!

Desiree got to do it too. Literally minutes after I started walking, she did. I guess that's cool.

I also squeezed a full sentence out too. For months I had been confined to single words.

This would have been an achievement, if I hadn't remembered that I could speak perfectly fine less than a year ago. Or at least what felt like less than a year ago.

Of course, Carmine and Grey made a big deal out of my sentence and me and Desiree's locomotion.

Not much for more evidence yet, but I should get a better grasp as soon as I get mom and dad to read me some bedtime stories and/or nursery rhymes. It'll be a while till then.

 **YEAR 1**

It hasn't been exactly a year since I was born, but I learned some of the nursery rhymes to help me speak.

There were the common ones, like Little Miss Muffet, the Itsy Bitsy Spider, and the like. Was it Three Blind Mice or Three Wise Mice?

Moving on, I haven't heard the name of one that I did not recognize, but it had a word that was a bit different and a bit more complex. The word was grim, and it was used like a noun.

I had been constructing short sentences in the months prior, so when I asked "What's a Grim?" I got an answer I wasn't expecting. Carmine said, and I quote,

"They're big bad monsters that like scaring people."

Which gave away which world I currently existed in. I was on Remnant.

Oh shit.

Now don't get me wrong. I love RWBY. It's just that life on Remnant? Tragic. _Very_ tragic.

Living a life of constant fear because you never know if the Grimm will come. I hope I'm not the same age as the main characters, but I also hope I am.


	3. The Interloper

**YEAR 1**

It's my birthday again. September 9th.

Also the same day that I died on Earth. Isn't that a great example of poetic irony?

Of course, the birthday party is less for the one year olds and more for the parents. What are one year olds going to do anyway?

Desiree and I have been playing together a lot. Well, she has been. I try to keep myself entertained with whatever Mom and Dad give me. Building blocks, play-doh that isn't play-doh, and the books.

I don't remember children's books being hard to read. The words, while small and easy to digest, seem to blend together. Some letters of some words seem out of order, but when I look again they're not.

I do remember reading a metric shitton of fanfiction. There are a lot of fics that put normal people from Earth straight into the conflict that it makes it seem like nothing before the events told matter. I can see why too; you have to write all about a person growing into what they were. There's one fic I know that does a fantastic job of that, but the author hadn't updated in a _long_ time. I don't blame them. Writing now is especially hard too; my fingers are too weak to even just hold a small rubber ball in one hand.

Are these the rigors that a new body must face? Probably.

I at least retained the alphabet, though I have to sing it like Desiree. Us singing together is funny though. I lead and she kind of just pitches in. Our parents think it's cute and funny.

Honestly, we have made some good progress to being functional humans. So far.

I haven't thought about what I wanted to do in Remnant. Risk my life changing things or take it easy and be a background character? Normally, I would like to stay out of the spotlight, but the circumstances are different. RWBY is a great show, at least in my opinion. Seeing it happen in real time would be an entirely different story, both figuratively and literally.

This also begs the question: How old are the main cast? Am I too late or too early?

I resolved myself to know that no matter what I choose, life would be different. I'm going into this world with questions and no answers.

 **YEAR 3**

First off, three major updates:

Me and Desiree are going to preschool now.

Desiree and I have our own room, though its halved between us.

I know the limits of my new, toddler body.

Speaking of which, I have gray hair and eyes like Dad. Not much of a surprise.

Desiree has excessively dark red hair. It borders on being black. Her eyes are much brighter than that though.

Why am I noting this? Well in RWBY, a character's defining traits in terms of appearance are their outfit, hair, and eyes.

I mean, it's the first thing that you see.

That and their weapon. The coolest part of any character easily goes to how they fight and what fights they have been involved in.

I really liked weaponry on Earth. I really want a weapon now.

At 3 years old, though, I would be pushing my luck _very_ _far_. I'm sure Mom and Dad would just chalk it up to wanting to be a Huntsman with all the stories of heroes and such.

When Desiree asked if she could be one on one particular evening before bed, both Mom and Dad blanched. I'm sure they don't want either of us to be Hunstmen.

I'm not sure I want to be one either. A terrifying thought occured to me when Desiree and I started preschool.

What if the show already accounted for my being there? What if no matter what I do, Beacon still falls?

What if no matter what I do, I change nothing?

These are haunting thoughts. They have even kept me sleepless sometimes. Even though I have the body and boundless energy of a child, I am kept up for days on end that my life might amount to nothing.

These are dangerous thoughts. What if I died on Earth only to die again worthlessly on Remnant?

I refuse to accept whatever destiny lies at the end for me if so.

 **YEAR** 4

There's this one kid at the school that Desiree and I go to.

He's a dog faunus. I would have expected to see him get ostracized and bullied, but that hasn't happened. He makes plenty of friends.

There was one incident where some girl in our class called his ears ugly and he started crying, but our teacher quickly resolved that and made them do the whole, "Say you're sorry," spiel.

It was nicer knowing that before the White Fang became extremist, faunus were actually treated somewhat decently.

I knew that this would be changing soon. First, a wave of hostilities from humans escalates into an attempted assassination, which leads to Adam killing a human, which leads to even more hostility... It will all culminate into the terrorist group that it will become.

I ignored the feeling of disgust and smiled, knowing that this might not happen again.

 **YEAR 5**

I can't believe I forgot to ask my parents what they did to keep a roof over our heads. _For five whole years_.

The idea occurred to me when Desiree and I celebrated our fifth birthdays. I (secretly) wondered what budget they had for buying our gifts and asked them.

"Your daddy works hard for a really big dust company," Mom said to me. I wanted to know what he did.

"What does he do for the company?" I asked simply. I scratched my arm and tilted my head, trying to look as innocent as I sounded.

"He has a job where he keeps track of numbers, writes letters to other companies, and just helps his boss do stuff." So he's a secretary or advisor or something then.

"For what company?" I pushed. Mom cocked her head back just a little and blinked. She wasn't expecting me to care past that.

"For the SDC. The Schnee Dust Company," she replied.

Well, that changes things. I remembered that the White Fang stepped up their violence about 5 years before the events of the show took place. I could use that as reference for when things kick off.

I asked Mom what she did before she married Dad and she said that she owned a small dust refinery before it was bought out by the Schnees, where she met Dad.

That's a sweet story I guess.

 **YEAR 9**

This year I got my first bit of information on how to become a huntsman. An actual huntsman came to the private elementary school that Desiree and I go to.

I asked him when he started and he said that you choose to start when you graduate from what essentially equates to middle school. Basically, finish year 8 of primary school and find a junior huntsman academy.

I let the other kids, including Desiree, ask other questions like his Grimm kill count, how many people he's saved, and if he went to Beacon.

My family lives in a rather large apartment in Vale and the school Desiree and I go to is a walk's distance. We'd heard about Beacon and huntsmen long ago.

He's killed many Grimm, did go to Beacon, and saved most people. I caught him trying to play off saying "most" as "the most" but didn't say anything. Trying to save the ones you know can't be saved is heartbreaking.

Anyways, I asked Dad if I could study up on the dust books he had in his office. He was ecstatic, to say the least.

He was recently promoted to refinery supervisor and had met Jacques Schnee himself. He had been talking to Mom about how Jacques was beginning to expand the SDC aggressively now that he had wrested control from Alice Schnee, Winter's, Weiss's, and Whitley's mother.

He probably misinterpreted my interest in dust for wanting to get a job in the SDC.

I'm studying so that I stay top of my class like Desiree and I already am.

You might call it cheating to use past knowledge of school to be highest scorer, but I died. There is no fucking way in hell I am making the same mistake as I did on Earth. I'm going to get good grades.

Dust is the lifeblood of a huntsman. I want to live, so I'm going to learn all the properties of dust. Dad brings back a small case of dust whenever he says there has been an excess, so I might be able to make use of that when I'm a little bit older.

 **YEAR 10**

14 books, over 1000 pages, and private schoolwork?

Easy. I blew through the books daily, and occupied about 4 notebooks with little notes and comments on dust and how it could synergize. We're learning easy stuff in our 5th yearof school anyway.

Desiree is completely bewildered by my diligence. She thought I would have been lazy since I didn't talk as much, but the quiet ones are the ones you look out for. I've managed to convince her to think about a career as a huntress. If I want to change things, I'm going to need a lot of help. Plans, countermeasures, contingencies... all of those can be made by one person. Successfully pulling them off? That takes either one _flawless_ person or a lot of good people.

Mom and Dad made the decision to unlock Desiree and I's aura if we become valedictorian and/or salutatorian and are completely dead set on becoming huntsmen.

Valedictorian and salutatorian? I can do valedictorian. I'm sure since what I'm being taught I have already learnt. I have a lot of "friends" since I help a lot of people with their work. Desiree has a lot of friends because she's just so damn nice. I think.

I can't believe how fortunate I am now.

My life on Earth ended on my 17th birthday and then I get reincarnated on Remnant? I couldn't ask for better.

On top of that, I am given a rich family, a younger twin sibling, and an education I've already had? I think God is trying to apologize to me.

A funny thought. I used to believe there wasn't one.

I have this impending feeling that I might not be as fortunate as I think, but I want to believe that my life really has improved from my life on Earth.

I'll know when I grow up, as always.

 **YEAR 13**

The graduation ceremony for us was just grand.

I still have stage fright, and stuttered a few times during my valedictory.

Desiree, though... she powered through.

Oh yeah, she made salutatorian. I beat her by _1 point_ in our algebra class.

Yeah. Algebra on Remnant. _Logical mathematics_ on Remnant.

Expectations of such a class aside, she delivered the salutatory like a champion. A lot of parents, including ours, were moved to tears.

It's ironic that she didn't write the speech, but delivered it so much better than I could have.

On that note, she intimidates me. I learned everything that was being taught at our school. She didn't. She was a better student than I was, and I got valedictorian.

The road there was harder than I thought. Puberty is striking again. I get really tired. So does she, but my ambitions involve me staying active for months on end.

Aura supposedly helps out with that.

Mom and Dad brought us home to a pleasant surprise: a family party with Cinna.

She had graduated from the boarding school she had chosen the year before. She wrapped both of us in a huge hug when we got into our home.

"You two! Oh my gods, Junior! You're taller than me now!" Junior is my nickname because I got called Grey quite often. "And Dez! You're big too!"

Huh. All this time I didn't know her nickname.

Desiree sniffled and I saw, in the moment, a single tear fall from her eye.

"I missed you, Cin."

In that moment, I realized how detached I was from this world. I had almost ignored my sisters for _13 years_. The guilt from all those times where she tried to break me out of my shell instantly mounted upon me and I once more found myself doing the thing I hated most: crying.

Cin sobbed shortly after me and we turned into a loose pile of crying teenagers.

The 13 years I have been on Remnant I convinced myself that the people I knew from the show were the ones that mattered. I untangled myself from my sisters' arms and looked Desir- Dez in the eyes. Hers were still puffy and bloodshot, but so were mine.

"I'm so sorry, Dez. We've known each other since we were born and I..." wrapping my arms around her left her shocked and speechless. Instead of crying, she reciprocated the hug gently.

"I... Please don't blame yourself," she said.

Our parents beheld the sight awkwardly. They stood at the door and hadn't expected surprising their youngest 2 would cause a such a reaction.

Later that day, Mom brought Dez and I to our shared and split room. Sitting down on my bed, Mom asked both of us a question.

"Are you 2 sure you want to be huntsmen?" she asked. She would be unlocking our auras.

I looked to Dez who looked back to me. I shrugged and she answered Mom.

"I am." I answered likewise.

"I am too."

Mom sighed and casted a dejected glance to the ground.

"If you two are sure," she said pointing to the middle of the room, where my half was split from Dez's half, "kneel there." Dez and I did as instructed. I knelt on my side and Dez on hers.

We watched Mom circle around us slowly as she rook deep, labored breaths. "Aura is the manifestation of your soul. I know you have learned about it in school, but aura is more than what they taught you." She stood right in front of us and pulled my desk's chair in front of us. "When your aura breaks, you lose more than just your strengths and defenses. _Your very resolve is tested_. When your aura breaks, you will endure the most emotional and spiritual pain you have ever experienced. True huntsmen can fight through it, but the junior huntsman academies test if an aspiring student will make it or not."

Dez and I looked between us again. We were both uneasy. However, I steeled myself; things needed to be done. I _would_ make a difference. Dez saw my face harden and in turn nodded.

"Are you ready?" Mom asked.

Dez and I nodded.

"Close your eyes and focus," Mom said as she placed a hand on my forehead, likely mirroring the same on Dez's. She began an incantation of sorts.

"For it is through the fire that we are tempered. Through this, we become a shield for the weak and a sword for the righteous to advance justice. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your souls, and by your light, protect all."

I felt my mother's hand grow warm as she recited the incantation. Inside my core, I could feel my body strengthen and my mind clear. Then, despite trying to open my eyes, I saw nothing.

It wasn't just a pitch blackness. It was a swirl of energy, moving across an empty canvas. A helix of pure lifeforce hung in front of me. I reached out and felt a familiar sensation.

Rains pelted my hand relentlessly and winds forced it back out. I recoiled my hand away from the spiral, and stared into the gray abyss. 2 white eyes stared back. Then, in a whispy, ethereal voice, I heard,

"He is the interloper... He is the foreigner."

At this, I opened my mouth to hear a squall blow through my ears. Howling winds ate at my sanity, punishment for trying to converse with this being.

Inside the spiral, 2 black eyes emerged. This time, an echoing, infernal voice spoke out.

"He is the interloper. He does not belong."

"He does not belong... But he will," the first voice, which I could only describe as light, responded.

"He does not belong. He _will_ _not_ belong," the second, darker voice corrected.

Again, at this point I tried to speak, but felt my lungs fill with water. A discharge of something ran up my body. I found the words I thought up to be choked out of me.

"He tries to speak... He wants to talk."

"He tries to speak. He will die trying."

A sudden wave of anguish and guilt washed through me. This would kill me? After the 13 years, I would die again? I wanted to fight back, but my ears were deafened by a gust of nothingness and my other senses were submerged in a pool of void. My eyes were filled with this vision, of which I knew now.

It was a storm. A cyclone of memories, of pain filled my mind.

I needed to get out of here.

"He is in pain... He will die."

"He is in pain. He _will_ die."

I stared into the eye of the storm, the calm in the middle. The 2 pairs of monochrome eyes regarded me as I reached out once again.

My hand reached forward.

"He fights back... He will win."

"He fights back. _I will not let him."_

In the clouds of the storm, red eyes emerged. These new beings ate at my soul with sharp fangs and claws.

"You will not let him..?

I _will."_

My hand disappeared into the center of the storm and I felt something. It was soft and easy to grasp. In my ear, over the roar of winds and pattering of rain, I heard a whisper.

"Take it. Hold it. Use it. Thrive in it."

I firmly grabbed the object in my hand and sensed my senses become unhindered. The eyes in the storm disappeared and the void turned white.

The storm shrunk in my hand until it was roughly the size of a tennis ball. One of Nature's most powerful phenomena was in the palm of my hand.

"Go."

I had the overwhelming urge to crush it. And I did. A soothing fire washed over me and clung to my skin, giving me a light gray sheen.

Looking at my hands in astonishment, my vision cleared.

My mom looked winded in the chair she sat in as she leaned back with her eyes wide. To my right, Dez was looking at her hands too. She was enveloped in a bright red film of aura.

Our life as civilians were ending.

And with it, all of my pertinent knowledge from another world.

I smiled to myself. Time to make a difference.


	4. The Signal

I find it weird that Desiree agreed to go with me even though I hardly ever interacted with her. I was usually in our room keeping to myself, doing things like studying.

Not that I'm complaining or anything.

I heard my mom knock on my door, earning both Dez's and I's attention. We were packing to get ready to go to our new school. I shrugged at Dez.

"Come in," Desiree said, turning back to her luggage and putting her other essentials inside. Mom poked her head in.

"You guys done yet? Tomorrow is orientation day." Entering fully, she stood patiently in the center of the room like a guardian.

"We know," both of us twins said. It had been an endless week of reminders about school life away from home and that we had to take care of ourselves and all that. I had just finished packing my bag when I turned to see my mom's head floating over my shoulder. A feat, considering that I had once again outgrown my mother at only 13. I jumped in surprise.

"You have everything you need?" Mom asked.

"Yes! Yes I do!" Settling back down, I zipped it up and stacked it on my other luggage. Mom wanted to personally inspect each one, but I reassured her that I did indeed have everything. I'm sure she was just suffering from empty nest syndrome already. And I don't blame her.

When she worked at that dust refinery, she only needed aura to help with heavy lifting and the occasional workplace accident. Dez and I need aura for an entirely different reason.

Huntsmen already have a low chance of making it to retirement. The events depicted in the show will most likely decrease that chance.

Despite mentally being over 30 years old, I have not experienced many things. In the back of my mind, I wished to deny the dark voice from when I had my aura unlocked. These thoughts plagued me through the night. Dinnertime came in a flash. And with it, a rather serious conversation.

As Desiree and I set the table, Mom and Dad had a quiet conversation. Cin was watching the meal she was cooking for us. It wasn't long before the food was ready and we were sitting.

Finishing his meal and clearing his throat, Dad pointed at me and Dez.

"I know you two really want to be hunstmen. But we need to talk about a few things first. It hurts me to say this, but if you continue further down this path, you must be ready to put everything on the line." He looked at me specifically with deadset eyes. I did too in return. "You must be ready to give your life up at a moment's notice."

I put my fork down and replied.

"I understand, Dad." Saying this sent chills down my back. No turning back for me now.

"That's one of you." His head shifted over to Desiree. She confirmed like I did.

"I understand too." Dad let out a shaky breath.

"Okay. Help clean up and then head to sleep. I'm waking both of you up early."

We did as directed. Today was over and tomorrow would be the start of a new life.

Again.

Dreamless nights aren't bad. Sleepless nights are.

I could barely sleep at all. Neither could Dez, if her constant tossing and turning told me anything.

"Hey Gray, you up?" she asked at roughly 2 A.M. She sat up in her bed. I groaned lightly.

"Yeah. Can't really sleep." I checked my alarm clock and saw that my sense of time was slightly off. It was only 1.

"Neither can I," she agreed. A few minutes passed in a sort of awkward silence, the only noise audible being our air conditioner working hard. After that moement, she spoke up suddenly. "I have a question for you, G."

"What is it?"

"Why did you ask me to be a huntress with you?" She turned to face me like she could see through the darkness across our room. "Aside from the tutoring I asked from you, you hardly ever... Well..."

"Talked to you?" I asked, bluntly. I knew this was going to come up eventually. After all, she was right.

"Yeah... I mean, you seem so... Secluded all the time." She prodded softly. I was expecting this conversation, but not this comment. I took it to heart.

"I'm sorry, Dez." Deep down, I only thought that my siblings were my brothers and sisters back on Earth. I had left that life long ago, and yet I still think like I am on Earth. I was also still a teenager, since I never got past that point in my life as of yet. My twin reminded me that not all siblings get to have a healthy relationship and that I needed to fix ours.

The worst part was that I didn't quite know how. The prevalent lack of conversation made it apparent that Desiree was thinking too.

"I have a question for you, too," I spoke up. As the saying goes, quid pro quo: something for something. "Why did you say yes?"

At that moment, I thought that Desiree was sleeping. However, her silence was because she hadn't thought about the possibility of being countered. So, in a search for her own answer, she simply said,

"I don't know," and laid back down. I had thought I made a mistake or asked her something I shouldn't have until she said, "I want to be with you, I guess."

 _I_ let her answer pass through me. Pretending like I didn't hear her because I was asleep, I recalled some psychology article about how humans instinctually want to bond with family members.

People go to sleep by pretending to go to sleep. I was able to after a few moments, being blessed with 3 hours of sleep.

"Junior, Dez, wake up!" Dad started our day with. I was startled by the noise and noted vacantly how familiar it sounded.

I sat up cross-legged and rubbed my eyes. Worst 3 hour nap I've ever had.

Dez hadn't moved from her sleeping position and was still asleep. The rise and fall of her sheets had told me as much. I grabbed my towel and got up quickly; I could get my morning routine in if I was fast enough.

At around the time I got out, Dez made her way over to the shower. Perfect timing, Dad.

I put on my clothes that I set aside yesterday. Characteristic of most teenagers, Desiree and I used jeans quite often.

It's usually around this time that huntsmen pick up their trademark "style." That being, their representative colors and sometimes oufit. They're typically nonuniform and actually pretty often asymmetrical, to give them a distinct look as some sort of celebrity kind of thing.

You could see this quite clearly in the show. Who has black motifs? Blake, Ruby, Raven, Adam, and even Qrow, to an extent. Green? Ren, because of his outfit and Penny, because of her weapons and eyes.

Again, I come back to the topic of eye color. At first, I believed that silver eyes were an exceedingly rare trait that only belonged to certain bloodlines. However, I am now privy to the idea that my father's ancestors used to have silver eyes. In fact, that is very likely where we got our last name. Argent is a corruption of argentium, which is silver in Latin.

There is no knowledge of Latin on Remnant because there were no Earth countries on Remnant. Au contraire, "English" on Remnant is evolved from what is essentially the Remnant form of Latin, called "Early Auran."

This was the language first used when dust was discovered and is universally agreed upon in Remnant to be the first standardized and accepted language.

Strangely enough, English is still called English.

It was one particular apocryphal book that I found in Vale's second largest library that referenced a "culling" of the silver eyed population. I'll get more info during my Remnant History classes.

I finished my mental tangent alongside my getting clothed. Off-black, heavy duty jeans were kept from falling off of me with a faded web belt. The light gray polyester shirt I wore was form-fitting, though I didn't have a filled out form just yet. I shrugged a similarly colored zipper hoodie on. Socks and shoes would come later, before we left the apartment.

Mom and Cinna were in the kitchen, setting the table for Desiree and I. After we left , it would be a long time before the rest of our family saw us again.

Dad was sitting in the sofa, watching the TV about a mass gathering of faunus. I happened to be doing nothing and stood behind him.

Among the crowd was a _very_ familiar face. Luck would have it that I would see Blake towards the back of this crowd, who was disposing of empty dust vials. The live footage switched to the studio, the one and only Lisa Lavender providing a report.

"Recent attacks by dissident elements operating outside the city centers have done little to impede dust production quotas. Faunus labor union strikes have been increasing and are currently at their highest."

 _'Holy shit_ I thought. _'She sounds like one of those ADVENT propaganda reporters.'_

"They've been getting testier lately. The faunus, that is," my dad remarked as the weather this morning was being forecasted. Everything seemed to be pretty mellow, with only small temperature drops forecasted for the next months. It was mid-August anyways, so this was to be expected.

"I heard the White Fang is turning to more drastic measures," I said, providing insight to future events. I wanted to tell my dad to propose reducing train deliveries since they would be easier to target for heists instead of airships. However, I remembered that Blake would be severing her ties to the White Fang on a train some time in the future. And in the end, someone else would propose the same thing after that would happen.

"Yeah, they are. Not that I would be surprised. Less and less have been showing up to work."

"What happened?" Desiree asked, stepping into the living room. She was still drying her shoulder length hair but was already fully dressed.

Dad would have opposed the tighter black jeans that she wore, but he had lost to his "princess" last time he tried.

Her blouse was a dark red, but you really wouldn't be able to tell with the _expensive as fuck_ , reddish gray, pullover cashmere sweater that she had with rolled sleeves. It was practical civilian attire and would work just as well as a combat outfit if the need arose.

Dad basically told her what he and I were talking about earlier on the news.

Breakfast was eaten with little incident and little conversation.

It was at the door that we said our farewells to our mom and older sister. Hugs were exchanged, reminders about a life away from family were said. 13 years of another childhood were going to be left behind.

Leaving something behind always fills people with a subtle melancholy. Seeing Mom and Cin wave to us outside the apartment was one such experience.

After Signal, we'd likely never see them again. And we would probably only see them during the summer break while we _were_ at Signal.

We waved back and got into Dad's car. He'd be driving us for 7 hours from the western side of Vale on the island of Patch, meaning we would arrive there at 3 P.M., a full hour before the orientation.

Desiree and I had made a silent agreement not to sit in the front a long while ago, when we would go on family trips to random places. Family trips that I realized were more for me than anyone. We were both seated in the back of our family SUV type of car.

Dad told us that we should try to sleep again now. I didn't object of course, seeing as how I only had 3 hours of sleep. Desiree only had maybe 2 and a half, at most. She was already trying to sleep.

I closed my eyes without a lot of thought. I was on the brink of sleeping when I felt a small bump along the ride and something light fall on my left shoulder. My left eye told me that Desiree had fallen asleep and the small bump leaned her against my shoulder. Not wanting to wake her up, I let her stay there and was soon nodding off myself. Some time later, I had successfully entered the dream world.

I had a dream, actually.

My dream was quite different from all the other ones I had ever had. My eyes saw nothing, but it was fine. Most of my dream was the RWBY soundtrack just sort of... playing. In my head.

Speaking of which, I had not heard many songs since I lived on Remnant. It wasn't a surprise to know that Jeff Williams and Casey Lee Williams, those responsible for majority of the soundtrack, didn't exist in Remnant. Thus, neither did their music.

I was disappointed to learn that. I was wondering...

Maybe I could write their music for Remnant?

I kept my guitar knowledge from Earth and learned piano as an extracurricular activity while in primary school for the "individual arts" class which is a class designed to teach students that artistic self-expression is important on modern Remnant. I needed to learn a new instrument and decided to take it easy with piano, since piano chords and guitar chords are similar. Nevertheless, it was a challenge to learn a completely new instrument.

This is pertinent in the way that fixing one of the most important aspects of the entire series could be my ticket to answers. If I am the apparent "interloper" that those 2 entities - of whom I expect are the Deity Brothers - are either supporting or trying to kill me, then I should restore whatever it is think is missing.

Well, only the "good" brother. The other one that tried to kill me when I was unlocking my aura should go fuck himself. Asshole.

"We're here," Dad said, Signal's gate pulling into view. A grandiose sight of tall towers and ornate arches was in our windshield. Desiree and I woke up.

After I fell asleep, it seemed that I had also ended up resting against her. I attempted to lean off of her first, but she jumped.

In that moment, I knew I would have gotten hurt. She jerked her head straight up, directly underneath my jaw. Something was different, however. I braced myself for imminent pain, but instead was seeing things in a slowed manner. I could see the back her head coming up into me, and thought _'I don't want this to hurt!'_

And it didn't. Well, not a lot. Instead of hearing my jaw clack against itself, I, and only I, heard my _aura_ of all things engaging. Then Desiree groaning in pain. And after that, Dad snickering.

Dad pulled into the check-in section, where there were baggage carts and various other students and adults.

"You guys got it from here?" he asked. Desiree, still nursing the back of her head, confirmed.

"Yeah," she responded. I followed suit.

"Yep." Dad got out and so did we. 2 carts were brought over by me and we unloaded our belongings out of the car.

"Alright then." He reached inside and produced 2 small rectangles from his pocket and held it in front of us. These were scrolls. "These are your scrolls. Take care of them. They've been set up for you 2 already, you just need to personalize them." He looked at me. "I'll miss you, Junior." Without missing a beat, he said to Dez, "I'll miss you too, princess." He wrapped us both in a hug.

I had a nostalgic feeling then. This hug reminded me of the time when I received my name. He held us both close like we were just born. Normally, I would have objected against it, but it was the remnant of a long ago, simpler time.

"I'll miss you, Dad," Dez and I said together.

He let us go and we waved to him as he drove away.

"So," Dez began, "where do we go?"

"Let's take care of our stuff first," I answered. Sighting a short line with people who had their bags, we made our way over. We declared and handed our luggage to a green-haired lady in a uniform who then gave both of us a lanyard with a name tag.

This served as an aid for introducing yourself during the orientation and a reminder for what room you belonged to. Both Desiree and I had Room C-1B, which, when inquired, meant building C, first floor, room B. We were then directed to the gymnasium. There we inferred to take a seat and wait until the orientation started, because a large number of students sitting in various places throughout the gym were doing so.

The amount of students present indicated that either more than three quarters of the student body was absent, or that those in attendance were only freshmen, or 1st years.

The gymnasium was something that was standard, even for a civilian school. However, I was sure beyond a doubt that the huntsman-centric infrastructure was hidden very well beneath the walls, floor, and ceiling. I was also sure they would reveal these things to surprise the uninitiated.

On the stage were some rows of chairs. My guess is that they would be where the teachers sat during the orientation.

Dez and I chose a set of bleachers that only had a few other students. Some students were conversing and others kept to themselves. We chose to keep to ourselves in favor of investigating our scrolls.

We were unsure how to approach them and mostly just got used to the weight. They were comparable to smartphones, but were much lighter. I pressed the yellow diamond in the middle - like I had seen RWBY characters do - and watched the scroll unfold in a rapid manner, nearly flying out of my unprepared hand.

The screen was a marvel to look at. Think, for a moment, a smartphone. Remove the physical aspect of it. You now have a scroll.

Well, not completely remove the physical. Just remove the size problem.

True to Dad's word, the scrolls were configured already. The screen had a blank background with various tabs - apps, if you will - on it. There was a home icon, a globe icon, a magnifying glass icon, and a mail icon. These were, respectively: the home screen which contained all of the above and space for more applications; a general CCT browser, a local file browser, and a messaging app.

Desiree and I received a few messages from some number. Reading the messages revealed the messenger to be Dad, sending us Mom's and Cin's numbers along with a picture of Dez and I sleeping against each other from earlier today. I thought it was a nice picture, but Dez did not. She sighed and put her scroll away, nudging for me to do the same. The headmaster and the teachers were now present. The headmaster stepped up to the microphone.

"Good afternoon, first years. I am Headmaster Wheaton," he started. "Today is your orientation, but you already knew that." He pointed to a particular set of bleachers. "I would like for you all to sit there so I don't have to use the microphone. Move quickly now."

We were across that set of seats and began our short journey to the other side with dozens of other students. I was nearly tripped by someone stepping on the back of my shoes, often called "flat-tiring." I craned my head behind me to see the perpetrator.

"Oh, sorry!" a young woman said. She had long, bright blonde hair and something about her light purple eyes was uncannily familiar.

"It's fine," I let go, turning back around. Desiree stalled to let me catch up with her. Sitting down on the front row brought the blonde girl who flat-tired me next to me... for some reason.

The hairs on my back stood on end. I know this girl.

But from where?

Mr. Wheaton stood several feet in front of the bleachers.

"Thank you for not talking," he said sarcastically, somehow getting everyone else to quiet down. After a beat, "You all are new, and you all need to know new people. Your homerooms are in the foyer of the gym. Learn each other's names and learn your homeroom. Your schedule will be given to you in your homeroom." Looking around, he added, "I look forward to seeing all of you here. When I say go, get up and find your homerooms."

He literally waited like 3 seconds. 3 seconds that felt like a whole minute.

"Go."

Everyone else got up and began heading to the foyer. Blondie, though, stopped me, and by extension, Desiree.

"Hey, sorry about that earlier," she apologized. I really didn't care.

"It's fine, really." Now would be a good time to figure out who this girl is. "I'm Gainsboro. This is my sister, Desiree."

"Nice to meet you!" she waved... even though she was only like 4 feet away from me. I looked down at her lanyard and nametag and-

Oh.

That's how I knew her.

"My name's Yang Xiao Long!"

 **(A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading so far. Thanks to all who have favorited, followed, and/or reviewed! It gives me motivation to continue. I look forward to continuing this story. Stay tuned!**

 **Cheers, Rico.)**

Edit, 3/9/19: fixed an error in which I used "to" instead of "from"


	5. Orientating

"My name's Yang Xiao Long!"

Well I know where I am in the RWBY timeline now. Fortunately or unfortunately for me, depending on how you look at it.

I lost my composure for a bit, staring at her with wide eyes like I was braindead.

This was one of my favorite characters in RWBY, in the flesh. You would be pretty surprised if you met a real life Superman.

Not Superman in terms of ability, but in terms of a _fictional character becoming real_. You _could_ say that Blake was my first encounter, or even Lisa Lavender. They were on a screen though.

This? This is Yang! The angriest girl in RWBY! Standing right in front of me!

What is throwing me off is her behavior. She's unbelievably polite compared to her portrayal in the show. You wouldn't think she would apologize for something so minor, but there has to be something different.

"Uhh, nice to meet you too?" she waved. I was still staring.

"Oh, sorry about him. He doesn't talk to a lot of people, so he's not really-" Dez began, trying to fill the blanks for me. I didn't exactly want to get embarrassed like that so soon, so I cut her off.

"Dez! I can talk just fine!" I turned around to face her rather stunned face. I needed to excuse the staring without exposing my true reason. "So you're related to Mr. Xiao Long?" I pointed out towards the seats where the faculty began shuffling out.

"Yeah. He's my homeroom teacher too," she remarked. She finished her thought with a hint of sarcastic irritation, "As if I don't see him enough at home..."

"What homeroom are you in?" I glanced down at her nametag.

"I think I'm in 1C, in the quad." She then pointed to mine and Desiree's. "So are you, by the looks of it." What.

"What?" Sure enough, a quick glimpse at mine and Desiree's did say 1C.

Yang is in my homeroom? This makes things interesting.

"She's in our homeroom too," Dez repeated. Yes, I know.

"Oh ok, cool." I thought briefly for a moment. I had then felt my mouth dry just a little and my heart move to my throat as the implications of the period of time I am in dawned on me.

This is Yang before she became the fun-loving girl in the show. She would be pretty normal, or at least, more tame than in the show. My actions here at Signal will determine how she ends up. And depending on how she is, Ruby will change too.

"Well we're going to be late soon if we don't get moving, so..." Desiree trailed off obviously implying that she doesn't want to be late.

"That's probably a good idea," Yang agreed moving next to her. The two started whispering things to each other as they moved. I walked behind them out into the foyer then into the front of the gymnasium.

The campus of Signal was much larger than what I was used to. There were 4 dormitories, no doubt 1 for each year class, and each were 3 story and rectangular, likely only a few rooms on each floor. They surrounded the quad, which was a large, 4 story square. The gym and cafeteria were separate from this cluster of buildings and the field was the border for them.

Concrete paths were strewn all over the campus, with trees planted alongside all of them to provide natural shade. There was also the small forest behind the cafeteria, which likely served as a personal retreat ground. Then there was the big kahuna.

The gym was next to a large, towering construct. A glimpse at my map named this building the arena. I remember the days back when I would see little announcements for small social and probably tournament functions that were hosted inside of the Signal Arena. I never paid those ads much mind so it stood out a lot more than I thought it would have.

It was likened to gothic architecture with a number of tall spires and wide arches. However, it still had a modern flair with large glass panes and angular edges.

All of this was a far cry from my high school that only had about 6 buildings in total.

"That's our room." We turned to the door and read our relevant homeroom number. Entering the room, things looked pretty average like an Earth highschool classroom. At the front of the room was a whiteboard and what I assume would be the teacher's portion, if the metal desk topped with paperwork and small booklets and swivel chair told me anything.

The rest of the room had mostly students' desks and a few cabinets along the walls for storage of what I guessed books.

Again, Remnant betrays my expectations. I have lived with the assumption that the RWBY world would, but it never ceased to amaze me on how _normal_ things were.

As for the occupants... Well, that is obviously a different story.

Dez, Yang, and I were the last few to come in. Not that it mattered, as Yang's dad came in minutes after us.

"Good evening everyone! My name is Taiyang Xiao Long," he said this looking over at Yang, who didn't try to react, and pressed a button on his scroll.

Immediately, a projector from the ceiling came to life and lit up the whiteboard with an image. An image that said, "Combat sciences." Taiyang followed up with, "and I am your homeroom and combat sciences teacher."

He looked around the room that was sparsely populated. "Let's get our seating down first." He read off of the list on his scroll and pointed at the first seat in the row. "Desiree Argent." The seat next to her would be mine. "Gainsboro Argent." Then, among the desks, he read out the rest of the names in alphabetical order.

Mr. Taiyang eventually pointed at the last desk. "And Yang Xiao Long." He then pointed to Desiree and said, "Now, introduce yourselves and something interesting about yourself."

"Hi, I'm Desiree Argent and I can play the violin," Dez said, sitting back down. I stood up next.

"I'm Gainsboro Argent. Call me Gray. I'm Desiree's twin." I sat back down right away, silently pondering if what I said was enough, whereupon Mr. Taiyang said nothing, indicating that that was indeed enough.

Everyone introduced themselves in much the same way I would expect: uncannily average and boring. Not much else interesting.

And then came Yang.

"Hi, I'm Yang! I know my semblance already. Nice to meet you all."

"Alright everyone, give yourselves a hand," Mr. Taiyang said, clapping. The classroom filled with sporadic applause.

Almost sad, considering the size of our class.

Mr. Taiyang then began listing off the criteria for the class. Combat sciences is part physics and part applied palynology (the study of dust). He was cut off by...

The high-pitched staccato of a school bell. Next period.

"That's all the time we have today, class. It's nice meeting you all." Taiyang smiled. He looked down at his table and gathered up the papers. "Now, head to your next class."

That was one out of five classes. Our homeroom class moved together in a single group. By the look of it, so did the other homerooms.

Our second period was Introduction to Psychology taught by Ms. Linden Birch, a young, lively woman. The objective of that class was basically this: be able to read your opponent and to cover situations hunstman regularly face without being phased.

Well, those are the cliffnotes. There's a lot of fluff to distract the more idealistic students, but the premise of the class is to predict your enemy and to stay calm in bad situations.

You know, situations that are typically kill or be killed. No big deal.

Except it _is_ a big deal. What would you expect? Can you really expect your opponents to give you chances when both of you are on the razor edge between life and death? Do you think the persons or monsters trying to kill you are going to let you recover from your mistakes?

The Grimm don't fight with honor. To survive in Remnant, you must be ruthless.

That's what we learned in Physical Training and Combat Exercises. My class's 3rd period was taught by one Mr. Ahrid Palm. He was an experienced fighter and told us about the curriculum after attendance to familiarise himself with us.

"This class is meant to push every aspect of you." He stared each and every one of us down. "If there's any class that'll make you drop out, it's this one." Brown, tired eyes looked over me. He was shrewdly testing our resolves. Looking away would show weakness, and staring back would exude confidence.

I'll admit, I had a hard time maintaining eye contact. The way he would look back if you figured out his little test was intimidating. Squinting his eyes and setting his face into a frown, Mr. Palm tried to get me to budge. I was nearly there, but he moved onto his next victim as he spoke.

"If you're out of shape, don't worry. You'll be back into it in a matter of days." His loud voice shook the young woman after me, who looked elsewhere.

He continued this until everyone was tested. Few passed, not once blinking. Yang almost did, but she averted last second.

It's saddening to hear that, really. Possibly the most confident in her abilities in the show, the blonde didn't show much confidence yet. Everyone else failed, including Desiree.

"Now, can anyone tell me what about me makes me so scary?" Palm asked. He looked around the room.

A young man, hand raised, answered in a questioning intonation.

"Your semblance?"

"Good guess, but no."

No one dared answer after him. No one really knew the answer.

"Anyone else?"

Silence and curious looks.

"The way I handled myself. You'll see that it works with dogs too. Not that any of you are." He stood up from his table and wrote on the whiteboard the word confidence. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you answer confidently, you are correct." This seemed to have confused everyone else. Seeing he needed to elaborate, he added, "If you sound confident, you sound correct. Who here answers questions they know like they're scared?" No one raised their hand. "Precisely." Sitting back down, he pointed to the word. "This class is more than just physical. There is a psychological aspect to every fight. There are aspects that you don't know and that I'll teach you some other time, since we only have 3 minutes left. The rest of the period is yours."

He proceeded to do his own thing. The 3 minute break he'd be giving us was quite welcome.

I nudged Desiree in the arm.

"What do you think?" I asked. I was talking about everything so far, and was glad to know she understood what I meant.

"It's all so much to take in. All of this is new." The light talking ended when the bell rang.

Civil studies was next and was taught by an unremarkably average teacher. The kick was that he wasn't a huntsman, had never been one, nor was planning to be one. This Mr. Lavan Luce was an old, well-studied man. His white hair and slouched posture denoted his wisdom and intelligence. He was smart, but might not have been effective in the way of keeping the class attentive.

Civil studies is a general mixture of practical classes you'd learn in highschool. It put a real twist on the whole superhuman training thing, but it was welcome. Not all hunstmen fought first and answered questions later.

Especially questions about Remnant history or Grimm anatomy. In a way, combat sciences would make this class redundant. However, combat sciences ultimately revolved around combat and the start and end of it. Civil studies is for the scholarly side of private schooled superpowered teenagers whose purpose is to kill anything that would kill them and then some.

Like I said, almost redundant. Useful, but to a certain degree.

Our last period was very interesting, at least to me. Aura training was the name of the game, and we were all new players.

Our aura trainer was a spacey but reserved middle-aged woman. Mrs. Skylar Astra was of a different mindset than everyone I'd ever met.

I swore that she was high, but I liked to believe that she was just transcendental because she was in touch with her aura.

It was unfortunate that we had this class last. I would bet that majority of us would be quite tired and might fall asleep when she would get us to meditate.

Good thing the class also covers dust synergies with aura! As if telling your students to be quiet and close their eyes isn't monotonous, lectures on a subject that some primary schools taught isn't going to put some of us to sleep.

You seriously have to forgive me. I woke up at 6 _A.M._ in the morning and it's 7 _P.M._ If your teacher told you to close your eyes, you'd nod off.

Anyways, I was awoken by the bell ringing for the last time today. We could finally go to our dorms.

Which were quite barren. They were small rooms with two beds across the door and two desks at each opposite corner. There was a single bathroom that was a sterile white.

Our baggage was separated between the beds. Facing the door, Desiree got the left. I got the right. Unpacking was a messy affair, since we were both too tired to care. And it was then why I learned why Desiree had one more case than me.

"You brought bed sheets and posters?" I threw her a glance over my shoulder, still throwing my shirts onto my bed. Admittedly, I appreciated the color. Reds and blacks would help us distinguish and personalize the room better than white and black sheets.

"Yeah. I knew this would happen. The academies do this so that you can make your room your own." She explained. "You know, give your room your style."

"Did you have to pack another suitcase full of sheets though?" I asked languidly.

It took her a while to process my question.

"Well it's better than white and black, right?" She sighed.

"Yeah I guess so." I shrugged it off. Dez threw me the gray sheet and I put it into my closet. In between our beds was a nightstand in front of the window. Through the window you could see the partial moon.

The moon is quite a peculiarity for Remnant. There are many stories and theories on how or why it's broken, but one thing's for certain. The moon is important somehow.

On Earth, shooting stars were meteors that burned up upon entry.

On Remnant, it is believed that shooting stars are fragments of the Moon that reach Remnant's atmosphere.

A streak of light flashed across the sky. Should I make a wish?

"Shooting star! Make a wish." Desiree closed her eyes and pressed her hands in what appeared to be prayer.

I guessed I should make one too.

I wished on that star with all my being for my life to have purpose and that what I did, I mattered. I would remain under the impression that my wish mattered.

It was a circumstance of self-assurance. Would I change things? Or would I be helpless, hopeless, and oh, so useless?

I shouldn't dwell on negative thoughts. It literally gets people killed.

Desiree masterfully finished unpacking and organizing her drawers. I did the same, but not as fast as she.

My thoughts were brought to Yang. She hadn't learned how to be confident just yet. She was still coping with her newest change in life.

That and her figure was less developed, so there's also that.

(A/N: Thanks for waiting so long for this chapter! Life threw problems at me, so I put them all down. And of course, you all give me motivation. Thanks again!

Cheers, Rico.)


	6. Inspiration

Waking up daily at 6 in the morning again is a... "fun" experience.

Fun is in quotes for reasons you should already know.

So as it turns out, aura doesn't supplement lost nutrition. What it does do, however, is prevent the negative effects of a bad diet... to a certain degree.

Alcohol's effect is significantly less significant, which explains how Qrow still manages to kick ass despite being half drunk all the time.

On the topic of Qrow... He isn't at Signal.

He was stated to have been a Signal teacher in like the first 10 minutes of the show, so I have literally no idea why he isn't at Signal.

Except for one, deceptively uncomplicated explanation. Occam's Razor has been put to work.

He hasn't been employed yet.

Why he hasn't is what I have been stumped on. Maybe he was on a mission? Or, applying the Razor again, he simply hasn't applied for a job?

Whatever the case, I hope he signs up soon. I would like to learn a few things from him.

As for Qrow's niece... Well, she's not the most entertaining individual you would meet. Not yet at least.

She seems pretty timid and at times insecure.

It's quite a disappointment, but that's what I get for putting an "average" human on a pedestal. It was the second week after orientation that told me all of this.

So, the story thusfar: Desiree had met another girl that she made good friends with pretty damn fast. Her name was Katrina Lobelia, and she was a wolf faunus.

We hadn't really been hanging out with Yang mostly because I had been trying to see what she would be doing.

And that's pretty typical stuff. Talk with friends. Do homework. Train.

But it was the first day that Mr. Palm decided to have us spar.

In the days before that, those who did not have their aura unlocked had them unlocked. Some were removed from the school for having what is called a "passive" aura.

Parents can choose to unlock their child's aura at a young age. However, having an aura in your youth and not using it causes it to... atrophy? It gets inordinately weaker because of disuse. When an aura is too weak to properly exercise, it is called a passive aura. Attempting to do so results in _absolutely massive mental and emotional trauma_ , so it isn't even worth trying to recover.

After filtering out the "passives," Mr. Palm decided to intimidate us yet again.

"Good morning class," he greeted. "Today we're heading to the gym."

This wasn't a surprise to us, since every day we had been going to get some physical activity in. We were all pretty sore from the spartan training he was putting us through, though I am proud. I am in better shape now than I ever have been.

When we got there, he brought us out to a boxing ring area. Instead of working us out, we were going to have at each other.

Sounded good to me, since there was this one guy that I wanted to deck for stealing my homework for civil studies once.

He took 2 people and put them up against each other. No weapons, just what you had on you. That is, your fists and legs and auras. He refereed the matches and made sure no one got too violent.

After a few rounds of fighting, Mr. Palm's decision making chose me and Yang.

Now, this wasn't the first guy versus girl that day. We were to avoid punching the girls in the chest for 2 reasons that I will not be going over.

I essentially got my ass handed to me in a single punch to the stomach, which was a humbling experience. The rest of my class let out a low 'ooh!' after seeing the impact.

However...

"Oh my gods! I'm so sorry!" Yang apologized to me, who was hunched over.

"Get up Argent! You guys aren't done!" Mr. Palm yelled at me. I nodded and stood straight up. My head became light and my gut was smarting with a pain that could only be described as being scooped open. I looked Yang in the eye and she stepped back a little.

"Why are you apologizing? We're sparring." I raised my fists and the small beep from Palm's stopwatch began the fight.

Yang bobbed and weaved in front of me. I settled on an old tactic I once used: push into them.

I took massive strides towards her and got up into her face. The speed of my counterattack took her by surprise but didn't throw her off; Yang was still swinging at me.

A few punches made it past my arms and into my chest, but aura blunted most of it. I kept pushing her back until she hit the ropes.

She let out a small yelp and brought her hands up. It was my turn.

Yang didn't _let_ me punch or kick her. She was doing really well deflecting my punches down and my kicks from her side. An overcut from over her guard went straight into her shoulder and she gasped in pain.

I kept going over her guard and she cowered behind it. She made some shots for me, but I mostly tried to ignore it, painful as it was.

The last attack of that fight was Yang's. It went under my arm into my ribcage, pushing me off of her. Then Mr. Palm's timer beeped.

"Time." He pointed to the center of the ring. We moved as indicated, facing him. He pointed his fingers inwards and we faced each other.

Yang's eyes were red, but she didn't seem angry.

"Shake." Yang and I shook hands. "Go." We left the ring and sat next to each other on the ground.

As the rest of the class fought it out, Yang leaned towards me.

"Hey, sorry about that punch." Again?

"Seriously, don't apologize. We were both there to fight and we both fought." She hummed and watched 2 other girls fight.

And that's the reason why I think that she's unimpressive right now. She isn't at all what she is like in the show. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's just amazing meeting her in person, but quite underwhelming.

She was certainly good, definitely won that fight. However, it seems she was not expecting to hurt her classmates. It told me that some sort of event or training would cause her to break out of this stupid shell and make her "normal."

Moving on.

Weapons training has begun. What that consists of is a shitload of training dummies getting chopped, slashed, bashed, slammed, stabbed, and more by the students using basic form weapons. The teachers obviously wouldn't let us use the complex multiform weapons because they are inherently dangerous to the untrained.

The point of weapons training is not so much to find out which one you prefer, but rather get familiar with all of the types of weapons available.

One week we practiced on the dummies hand-to-hand. The next, we tried out small blades. Eventually, we made our way through a whole fucking medieval armory. Maces, swords, clubs, batons, axes, and the like were all subjects of practice and a pretty hefty amount of humanoid targets were battered.

Yang found her penchant for punching things.

"Hey, Gray!" she said beside me. "I think I like punching things!" she said, throwing a cross so wicked the dummy was thrown back so far it fell backwards. She's definitely doing the right thing.

I, on the other hand, wasn't. I was sort of just hitting a bag hard and it was barely moving. The problem was that the bag was hard as fuck. It felt like it was made out of concrete.

"Try using aura on that one," Mr. Palm suggested, making his rounds. He was inspecting everyone and how well they were doing.

I called upon aura and everything felt... better. My fists and shins didn't feel so sore, and the bag actually swayed a little. It felt real good to make a dent in concrete.

Figuratively. The bag held up very well.

Desiree had a bad time. She was on a softer bag, one that was actually filled with sand. The only thing it was doing was spinning around and around since all of her hits got deflected to the side.

I felt bad, but she wasn't the only one doing bad. There were other students hardly making a difference.

Katrina was a fast hitter though. When we practiced with the longarm weapons like spears, she was great! The tip was a blur and you could only see the wounds sustained by the dummy appearing.

All this training and development wasn't boring, but it really wasn't entertaining. We'd get drills that are fun and engaging but sooner or later end up tedious.

Which is why I welcomed Dez's invitation to the local mall over the weekend. It was a shopping center near the bridge leading to the main continent. We were accompanied by Katrina.

"Hey G," Desiree said in front of me as we roamed. You brought your lien, right?"

"Yep." I pulled out the plastic card. All Signal students earned a monthly stipend and free tuition via government funding. It's an excellent deal, though morbid after graduation perhaps.

Therefore, the "honor" of paying for lunch would fall to me.

"So, Gray," Katrina asked as we filtered into some restaurant. "How have you been?" Small talk? Great.

"I'm fine," I noncommittally answered. The menu was more important to me than my sister's friend. Courtesy came second nature and I asked, "And you?"

She said something neutrally positive enough. The talk between her and Dez picked up, allowing me to retreat to silence.

A waiter came, food arrived, and we - I - paid. We decided to go do our own thing so I went to a clothes store to pick up a few things.

There was a talent show going on involving dust in the middle of the center. Spectacular interactions like a mist created in an instant and arcs of lightning moving within the mist were showcased, awing the crowd.

"Woooooow! That was cool!" I heard a little girl exclaim. She was riding on the shoulders of whom I assume was her older brother.

"Yeah it was," the guy spoke, utterly awestruck. "Alright, though. That's all we have time for."

"Aww... okay." The girl's head dropped onto her brother's head.

I wouldn't have made this encounter seem important if it weren't for the fact that the girl was a faunus... With the most goddamned adorable panda ears.

The brother, on the other hand, wasn't. He didn't look the slightest bit like a faunus.

They walked in the direction that I was going for a moment before the brother pulled out his wallet and tried to count some lien.

Keyword being tried. As soon as he brought it out, some shady guy grabbed it out of his hands and ran.

"Hey!" The brother turned around. Putting the girl down carefully, he told her, "Stay here." Time to be a huntsman.

I laughed to myself.

"I'll take care of it." Taking off, I sprinted after the thief a ways, narrowly avoiding other civilians, until we made it into the parking lot. There, it was only a few aura-enhanced strides before I was able to catch up to him.

A quick kick to his exhausted legs sent him tumbling.

"Ah! Fucker!" He got up to his feet and readied himself for a fight.

A fight that didn't even last a few seconds. He kinda just threw himself at me and I took the opportunity to sidestep a long punch and bring my knee into his jaw.

A loud clack and him falling forward told me all I needed to know: he was out cold.

2 mall security guards came running up seconds after our scuffle, weapons drawn.

"I got him, I got him." I flashed my scroll's ID tab to the guards to let them know I was a huntsman-in-training and they thanked me for taking care of the guy. "I'll bring the wallet back."

The adrenaline rush died as soon as it came. Grabbing the wallet, I made my way to the 2 siblings.

"Here's your wallet. I don't think he was able to take anything, but just let me know if he did." The brother received his wallet and pulled out a card of lien.

"Thanks man." He held it out to me. "Here. For your troubles." A nice card of 20 lien was being offered, but as much as I wanted to take it and be 20 lien richer...

"No, that's fine. Buy some ice cream for the little miss here, if anything." The girl brightened up and looked up at her brother expectantly. He sighed and said,

"Alright. Thank you so much dude." I waved him off and began to move on, but before I could get too far, the brother said one, oh so simple thing. "Let's go, Phoebe."

I stopped in my tracks and felt my heart sink, for whatever reason unknown to me.

I feel like an adventure I knew had come to an end.

And I was trapped in my thoughts for the time mine would too.

(A/N: And that is my final farewell to Reiteration.

Hey all! Rico here. As some of you may know, Reiteration, this story's inspiration has been discontinued. The excellent story that gave me a reason to write will no longer be updated.

Thankfully, it remains on this site. I advise you to check it out for yourself if you haven't already. In other words, I'll miss Enten and his family.

So it's with this chapter that I hope to carry on the torch Reiteration started. Thank you for reading, and thank you Phailen for inspiring me.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

Cheers, Rico.)


	7. Palynophile

The dust demonstration was of course performed by the Schnee Dust Company, who used it as a business venture in one of their most profitable selling points to market some "new" product.

It was a simple one. A little, complex nozzle connected to a dust chamber to expel the dust without instantly igniting it. It wasn't a new concept, but until now it only saw use with huntsmen. Now they were aiming at convincing those with a certain, opulent aesthetic that spending dust in the most dubious way possible - for show - is something they can do now.

I rolled my eyes and threw the pamphlet away into a nearby trashcan. Not today, Weiss.

The thought occurred to me to make use of a dust "emitter." You wouldn't really see dust emitters in the average huntsman's weapon, since just shooting it out of a firearm is faster and easier. I think it would give my weapon, when we begin work on them, a bit more personality.

I digress. I was more focused on buying Dez and I something to cook because Huntsman academies teach and encourage the fundamental survival skills like cooking.

A few idle waits for the goddamn lines to shorten was what kept me from leaving as fast as I went in. I can leave now.

I sent Desiree a message explaining where I was going.

'Going to dorm' were the concise and exact words, and a likewise similar 'ok' was the response.

So I waited for the bus taking students to the Academy.

-XXXXX-

In the course of just 3 months, Signal had turned into an interesting home and challenge. Dez and I's dorm took proper shape, with me filling my side to the fullest with books and study material.

Those dust books from back then helped out with the combat sciences class. The dust experiments Mr. Taiyang had us perform were exceptionally difficult. We had to synthesize electric dust for one of them, a process typically reserved for enhanced dust refinery stations. We did that with some test tubes.

The aforementioned process was arduous and required no small amount of patience and precision. Exact amounts and ratios of fire dust, wind dust, and water dust were the ingredients.

"Holy shit," I marveled. "I got it sir!" I was among the first few to create the reaction that makes electric dust, and a sense of pride welled up within me.

In the encapsulated test tube, I mixed together the dust types. This created miniature mist, and soon after little streaks of plasma flowed between the test tube walls. It was brilliant.

Mr. Taiyang inspected the suspended tube and held his hand out towards it to detect the temperature.

"Very well done, Mr. Argent."

In a matter of seconds, some of my classmates came by to either look at my experiment, ask for help, or both.

Truth be told, I had no idea what I did right. All I knew is that fire dust came after the water and wind were mixed. That were the boundaries of my understanding.

But something urged me to go on. To learn more about this force not of nature. The dust reaction had ended and all that remained were some insignificant specks of powder at the bottom of the tube. This was obviously the electric dust.

Eventually everyone would produce the same result, whether it be by careful deliberation or haphazard luck.

This wasn't the first time I had wanted to know more about dust. Back when I was younger, I dove into books all about dust and it's principles. Dust combination articles were barren and held no substance, aside from basic known mixtures.

Another reason the past few months were eventful was Ms. Astra being something of a psychic.

She has had us meditating for a couple of weeks now. Semblance training is the main reason. However, she stated when we first began semblance training that she doesn't expect any of our semblances to manifest.

The true motive for this is that she's lazy. And that she wants us to learn more about ourselves and to strengthen our auras.

Aura meditation brings upon visions. Everybody talks about theirs. Not me. My visions are of an age long past. Days spent on Earth.

I'm always mentally and emotionally exhausted after each meditation. Which is why she's talking to me after school.

"Mr. Gainsboro... Are you... alright?" She asked in her wispy voice. Her eyes were full of concern and her expression was the same.

"Yes I am ma'am. I just get tired after I meditate." I sat down on one of the classroom's beanbag seats.

"That's the problem... You shouldn't be tired after a meditation. The opposite should be true."

I pondered over this for a while. In that while, she continued.

"I can sense that you have... something your classmates don't. Your aura has a feeling of... history and... knowledge."

I tilted my head at that. You can feel another person's aura?

And she, as if she knew what I was wondering, answered that.

"It is a complicated technique. It takes months or even years of practice." She asked me again, "Are you okay, Mr. Argent?"

If I was being truthful... No. But I had a feeling that telling others about my past wouldn't be the best option.

"Yes, ma'am. I think I'll be fine." I stood up and stretched, letting my joints pop.

"If you say so. I am not one to force you to tell me." She gathered up her belongings after me. "That's all I had to ask about, Mr. Argent."

I took my leave and went to my room. Laying down on my bed was a relief I had been waiting for.

-XXXXX-

I don't remember how long I was sleeping, but I was awoken by Desiree nudging me.

"Gray, wake up." She showed me her scroll's screen. "You slept into tomorrow."

The screen, though initially too bright, soon became clear. It was the next day and was currently the time we usually woke up to go to class.

My heart dropped. I fell asleep and didn't do my homework?!

"Dez! Do you have the homework for Mr. Luce?!" I damn near screamed as I bolted out of bed.

At that, she began laughing hysterically. And in that moment I knew I had been pranked. I calmly made my way to my scroll and checked. I had only slept for like 2 hours.

Desiree, to her credit, had got me good.

I leveled an even and enotionless stare at my sister.

"Really Dez? Really?" I didn't wait for her excuse to wash my face in the bathroom sink. There was also a second voice snickering from the door. It was Yang. She was laughing.

I palmed my wet face with my towel.

"Yes, G. Really," She retorted. "Well I woke you up for a reason," she added whilst still having fits of giggling, "2 as a matter of fact." Pulling out my chair and relocating it to her desk was the first thing she did.

"Both of us need help with some work so I invited her over." The second thing she did was throw my notebook onto my bed.

I remained silent as I availed myself of a more casual and comfortable shirt and shorts instead of our uniform. I continued to be noiseless as I changed in the bathroom.

"Whatever. Sure. We can do that." The third thing she did involved turning her scroll back to the proper date and time.

I sat with the girls and did my work alongside them, helping them along the way.

To my surprise, Yang was quite astute. She only needed help with the grimm anatomical models we were assigned.

"The more armor it has, the older it is." The ursa in the model was utterly encased in bone plating.

"So this is an ursa major?"

"Yeah, since it has at least 3 rows of bone spikes."

Denominations for grimm subsets are based off of certain criteria.

After the work had been finished Yang thanked both of us and left.

Desiree sat on my bed.

"Gray?" She questioned softly. She had an air of guilt around her. "I'm uh, I'm sorry for waking you up like that." She looked down at her hands.

Well now's a good time to mend the bridges I didn't let my family make. I feigned ignorance.

"Huh? What did you say?" I cupped my hand over my ear. "I couldn't hear you." In just a few sentences I had already frustrated my sister.

"I said I'm sorry," she repeated, slightly louder.

"Still can't hear you," my singsong reply came. I could hear her embarrassment from the desk. "Did you... did you just apologize?" The tension in the room was approaching critical mass.

"Yes! I said I'm sorry-" I cut her off.

"I know, Dez." I turned in my chair to face her. "And don't apologize. You needed something so you asked. You asked so I helped." Her equal parts irritated, dumbfounded, and guilty countenance was all I could see across the room. "Just make sure you help me if I ask, alright?"

She cleared the emotions from her face and nodded.

"You know, you're kind of a-" I cut her off yet again.

"A dick? Yeah. I know." Her nonplussed face told me I took the word right out of her mouth. "But at least I'm nice."

After a beat of silence she began laughing once more. I turned back towards the books on my desk, letting her laughter be my confirmation for having made her feel better.

I properly returned to my studies

-XXXXX-

 _'Gravity dust (Purple dust, Figure 3a) can take upon many properties depending on it's matter of use.'_

I rubbed my eyes in exhaustion. I had spent the rest of the day studying even more about dust and grimm and Remnant.

I finally got up from my chair and stretched. I would have gone to bed, but Desiree fell asleep on mine. I had more than half a mind to move her to hers, but ultimately decided against it. She would need her sleep so that she could train better.

Training has been hell. I never thought I would be punching solid concrete and be fine, but it's something that we're graded on.

I guess I should be happy for being able to have formal aura training. The manifestation of the soul decides between who lives and who dies.

Our souls are the only things keeping us from our deaths.

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Merry Christmas! I was originally planning to make this and subsequent chapters longer, but... Smash Ultimate. Blame that. In any case, I hope you enjoyed and I hope that you all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Cheers, Rico.)


	8. Thunderstruck

This is the first time I've ever seen snow.

And holy shit.

First off, life on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean is hot. Where I lived, we were somewhere between the Tropics. So that being said, it's not common to see snow on that island.

Not common is an understatement. Perhaps the only way to be able to see that would be surviving a nuclear winter.

Anyways.

Second point: the Argent family - i.e. Dez, Mom, Dad, Cinna, and I - all lived in Midwestern Sanus. The last time it snowed there, I was 2 years old. And not let outside.

Signal just finished the first semester, so now we're all on winter break.

Let me summarize my first ever experience with snow: it's AMAZING.

It's so soft and so cold and you could make things out of it. Truly a marvel of nature's processes.

But it's cold. _Really fucking cold._ I was pretty relieved to know that auras can help combat the temperature.

So while that's fun and all, I move onto graver news.

The White Fang's presence is going to intensify. They're having more and more recruitment rallies all over Vale, Patch included. I'd been secretly patrolling the streets of the city near the bridge on Patch at night. Stretching my budget thin on overnight stays was probably the least of my worries.

I called it quits for now after a couple dozen close calls with thugs. Aura and physical training be damned, I am _not_ getting fucking shot.

-XXXXX-

It's been... what a month since the winter break? Snow melted and all that. I understood why people don't really like the white stuff all that much now. I have to deal with that for the rest of my life?

Moving on...

We're doing something incredibly dangerous for aura training class. Today we're learning what it's like to have our auras broken. The worst part?

We have to do this the cheapest way Signal can see fit. It's being forcefully broken.

"Okay, class," Ms. Astra began. "Today will be a day you will not look forward to." She looked down grimly at her desk. "You will experience for the first time what it is like to have your auras, the very manifestations of your souls, broken. Shattered. Your spirit and your confidence will be the same." In just a few sentences, she managed to have a good portion of my class frightened beyond belief. "Prepare yourselves, children."

There was an exception to the first time thing: Yang. She had her aura broken at least once before. In any case, she was hardened moreso than any other of our classmates.

We began in a pseudo-alphabetical order. Desiree was up first.

Ms. Astra knelt and had Dez sit in one of the soft beanbag seats in front of her. The room went dead silent for a minute as the final words were exchanged during the calm before the storm.

"Ms. Argent," Astra addressed the young woman. "Are you ready?" Desiree gulped.

"Y-yes, miss." Ms. Astra put a hand on Dez's shoulder. Desiree closed her eyes.

The whole classroom was a bundle of anxiety. Nobody said a word. Nobody moved an inch.

I observed the procedure with intense concentration.

In a second, a dark red film began to run over Desiree. Then, from the shoulder which had Ms. Astra's hand, could you see the layer fading.

As our instructor retracted her hand, Desiree opened her eyes.

I couldn't exactly remember how it went, but I could say it was as if she was being _eaten alive_.

Desiree's expression went from uncertain to downright terrified. She cowered before some invisible force in front of her and _screamed._ She was mortified. She wanted to kick, to swing her arms, _to fight back_. She couldn't.

It wasn't long before she was whimpering. It hurt _me_ to see my sister like that. I suspected some of my classmates were smug or cocky over this but no. Turning to face them told me otherwise. All of them were panicking.

"Mr. Argent, could you assist your sister please?" I did so without hesitation.

I went to Desiree and stood her up. Her limp body held no resistance and her motionless eyes did not move. I slowly aided her in walking to the back of the room. I blankly noted how much she felt like a body.

Ms. Astra called for some help on her scroll and received a substitute teacher to assist in what I conjectured to be what I was doing now. Lord knows she would need the assistance.

Sitting Dez back down was easy, but she managed to muster up enough strength to grab me and pull me into a hug. I reciprocated, but flinched when the next person began their aura "tempering."

Desiree released the embrace and I sat with her in silence. Silent as possible with people bawling their vocal cords out. One by one, everyone was reduced to a shaken mess. Throughout the lesson, Ms. Astra's face was permanently set into a frown.

It took more than a while, but Desiree came to her senses. She seemed... different. I wouldn't be able to put my finger on it just yet, but I think she became stronger because of this.

Everyone was hit hard by this. Yang took it the best; she barely made any noise. However, she was paralyzed and had a dumbfounded look afterwards.

As much as I dreaded it, I had to go too.

"Mr. Argent... You're up." I took my seat. My feet were cold and my hands trembled. My breathing became hard and I could hardly think straight. My throat pulsed in beat with my heart.

Ms. Astra ran through the whole process. She asked for my confirmation.

"Are you ready, Mr. Argent?"

"Yes." I barely managed to whisper out.

Ms. Astra put her hand on my shoulder. All of the muscles in my body tensed. My aura shimmered in my ears alone and I

-XXXXX-

woke up in a hospital bed. A machine to my side beeped incessantly and made my headache worse.

I was covered in bandages and hooked up to an IV. My head wasn't the only thing pulsating in pain. My _entire_ torso felt like it was being crushed underneath the clean white blanket on top of me. Breathing by myself was hard, but an uncomfortable oxygen administrator made sure I got enough - or perhaps too much - oxygen.

The machine somewhere to my side picked up its pace.

To that end, I faded in and out of consciousness. My glimpses back in were met with familiar voices and that godsdamned beeping.

About the... 11th time? I was able to wake up just in time to see a doctor checking up on me. He must've known that I would be going back to sleep since he talked about a relapse, but who was I to complain?

I couldn't for the life of me look at the ECG so I could not determine my aura or anything else pertaining to my recovery.

One particular time I was able to gather enough resolve to power through my pain and rip my mask off. I opened my mouth to loudly voice my discontent, but no word or sound escaped.

I decided against tearing the IV out and instead opted to push all the buttons on the side of my bed to get an attendant in here.

It worked. I fucked up all the settings for my bed, but it worked. The nurse, to her credit, helped me out. She fixed the bed settings and left to get a doctor, but not without putting the oxygen mask back on me when I started wheezing.

I kept awake this time. A man wearing light blue scrubs did some type of test on me with a light and all that. Again, I tried to take off my mask. This time, he did so for me. He asked me a number of small questions to see if I was orientated.

I, through coarse voice and dry throat, asked him my question.

"How's my..." I took a deep breath and broke out into a small fit of coughing. "Aura?" I finished, again hacking through a dry mouth. He stared back at me sideways

He glanced back at the nurse. She shrugged.

"Son, I don't know what you're asking." What? Aura? The lifeforce keeping me alive or whatever? I furrowed my eyebrows in frustration. Maybe I didn't say it loud enough.

"Is my aura back yet?" I eeked out. The man shook his head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He looked over at the nurse. "Is he on painkillers?"

The woman shook her head.

"Nope. Just antibiotics and," I'm not quite sure what she said, but it sounded like, "N-S-AID."

He held his head in thought. He turned to me.

"I'm sure you're tired son. You'll need your rest. I'll notify your family that you are feeling better. Don't take your mask off again because your right lung is collapsed, alright?" He stood up and left.

How could they not know what aura is? The only possibility I could think of is that I'm...

Back on Earth?

My mind was racing with all these different possibilities. However, the machine next to me began to pick up speed. _Fast_.

The nurse, about to leave as well, heard the machine accelerating. She turned around faster than I could blink and rushed towards me.

-XXXXX-

I woke up in the sterile facility of some sort of hospital.

I sighed. I can't remember what just happened. My aura tempering began and then I woke up here. I felt like there was something in between then and there...

That can't be what everyone else felt, right?

A quick look around the Signal infirmary confirmed that I was alone with the school nurse, Ms. Birch's brother. He was occupied with a computer.

I sat up in the bed and cleared my throat.

"Sir?" Mr. Birch, a young, lightly bearded man with thick framed glasses, spun around and walked to me. Pulling up a plastic chair, he sat relatively far from the bedside. The man asked some questions that were familiar, but I couldn't remember where or when I had heard them.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Argent. I'm Roy Birch, Signal's nurse." He began. "How are you feeling?" to which I answered,

"I'm tired. Tired, but pretty normal I guess." He followed up with,

"Do you know what happened?" This perplexed me.

"No, I don't." I asked him the big question. "What happened?" He then told me what I needed to know.

"You were having your aura tempered for Ms. Astra's class, which means it was going to be broken." He brought out a scroll and began tapping away, all the while informing me of what I missed. "Normally, the first time someone gets their aura broken, they experience emotional and mental trauma, though this diminishes with training and familiarity."

He looked up at me and squinted.

"Typical cases of first occasion aura temperance leaves the trainee with little strength. In short, they basically experience sleep paralysis. You," he pointed a single finger at me, "on the other hand, became violent." I blinked.

"Wait what? So what happened then?" He did a semi-sigh and told me,

"You had to be restrained by the teacher's aide. And then you passed out." Wow. Okay.

"Umm... Does this count as an infraction?" I carefully wondered. What I said was a joke, of course. But I did want to know...

"Ha ha... No. You'll be fine." He showed me his scroll's screen to let me see my aura level. It was nominal at about 60%. "Don't worry. You weren't the first case on either count. Both just doesn't happen often."

I breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't quite done talking either.

"On the other hand, you have been out cold for about 3 hours now. And this won't exempt you from any work assigned today. If you're feeling any better, you can just sign out."

I wasn't feeling _worse_ per se, so I did that. Going back to my dorm room added a confrontation to my list of things done today.

The first step I took back into my room earned me a quiet glare and an impromptu interrogation from my sister.

"How are you feeling?" she asked with a tone of slight... uh oh. I can't identify this emotion. She at least wasn't mad, as far as I could tell.

"Uhh..." I began. "I'm feeling fine?"

At no further questions, I assumed she was done. Oooookay?

I didn't pay her much more mind though. My homework and all that needed to be done and was later so. Sleep was the next best thing I could do.

-XXXXX-

The lowest level of Signal's arena tower was a firing range.

We were firing guns in that level for our next quarter of weapons training.

The loud reports of firearms were old friends in this otherwise foreign world. My ancient marksmanship team senses came back to me like a flood.

Mr. Palm himself commended me for my aim. _Before_ we used aura.

Aura changes so much. You could literally resight your target while your weapon is still cycling when you're under the influence of aura. Silhouettes hundreds of meters away stood no chance. It felt good hearing that satisfying _'clunk!'_ from some metal shaped like either a grimm or person.

Desiree is also _very_ good. She's an outstanding marksman.

All manner of firearms were shot. Small calibers were first, followed by more specialized or standardized guns. Pistols and rifles were given the most time seeing as how they were basically the bread and butter of any firearmed person.

Yang, unfortunately, is just slightly below average standard with weapons like that. She likes their kick and power, but can't seem to master precision.

Fortunately, she _absolutely adored_ the shotguns. Explains why her Ember Celica had them.

This training was to let us get to know whether we wanted guns in our weapon designs or not. I always did, so I just used this training as an excuse to shoot things.

Mr. Palm told us to begin designing our weapons or to at least know what we want in them. Everyone would come up with their own individual designs. However, the most vanilla, i.e. the most common weapon I'd see would be a sword-assault rifle. A lot of people would go with that.

I wanted something different, so I sketched out a proposal for a weapon that has an undeniable inspiration from a design from Earth.

The base would be a melee weapon. A lance that could be thrown with assistance from a gun's recoil. With the FN Herstal P90's magazine somewhere in there.

I sent the concept to the designer, who gave me a blueprint so that the forging process could begin.

Weapons manufacturing overtook the physical training with an ultimatum provided: finish your weapon before the 3rd quarter ended or be expelled. Procrastination and hesitation were everyone's enemies. You couldn't get away with saying that you are your weapon, because there is always something that can make you more deadly.

So my blueprints came back like this:

A lance whose haft was mostly a barrel. Up towards the lancehead was the action. Lying parallel to the haft was the magazine well, which housed the P90-style magazine.

The entire thing could fold into a sleeker, larger, loosely P90-shaped firearm. The action was shifted forward more, giving the gun a more "traditional" aesthetic, though the magazine remained above the action.

To prevent me from being unarmed after a throw, there were schematics for a gravity dust attractor in the gun. I was given the schematics for the attractors and made 3; 1 for the lance, 2 for each hand.

A novel idea. A welcome one.

I began working at the forges. I used my time after school to put more effort into forging it and was quickly ahead of my classmates.

Hot forges, steam from stoking the blade, and scalding metal burs took up the first week. Aura helped, though it still brought sweat to my brow.

Once I had the fundamental pieces of the lance, Then came the fine, smaller parts of the gun action. Milling my receiver would be the only way I would want it, no compromising for time.

That took more work since they had to be to exact measurements. I made a set just barely too small and had to refer to the blueprints again.

A rookie mistake. I swear.

That took about a week and a half.

The easiest part of the weapon was the barrel-haft. It was a heavy barrel and was rifled with this small tool that was pulled through. The designer recommended as much.

Attaching the parts and having clearance for the transformation was the hardest part. I almost had to restart the entire thing.

Once it was all put together, I stylized the lance. I made most of it gray with some dust techniques and the weapon was finished, after I planted the attractor in it.

I then took some black gloves with hard rubber knuckling and put the other 2 attractors in the palm. Simple, easy, and done.

By the end of it all, I was exhausted. Hammering out the metal, slowly and carefully milling the firearm parts all contributed to my fatigue. Thankfully, I was now armed.

I took sharpening the lancehead easy, but still labored over it. A fine grit whetstone made the blade more than razor sharp.

I was very pleased with the weapon.

In as little as a month and then some, the weapon was turned from a concept, an abstract, a mote of imagination into a full, 4 foot, polished, and gleaming tool of destruction.

The round it was chambered for was higher powered, as per design requirements and request. Semi-automatic was a bit of a letdown, but otherwise didn't hinder my pleasure in play with this thing.

I got a feel for the lance. Particularly, the method of firing when I threw it. The trigger was nowhere near where my hand would be, but it would fire with what equated with me flexing my aura.

I'm glad I got what I didn't know I wanted. This lance would be my best friend for the years to come.

Seeing how I was brought to this world in the first place, I gave it a name alluding to both a song I liked and, morbidly, my death:

 _Thunderstruck._

Well, not exactly, but close enough.

-XXXXX-

I pulled Thunderstruck out of the tree I had hurled it at. The attractors worked their nonexistent magic and did all the work for me.

For the 46th time out of 100, I had thrown the lance with proper form.

One Mr. Bastani Sonnati was my weapon trainer. A blonde, pudgy man with a calm voice and thin mustache, Mr. Sonnati was my personal trainer.

"Gainsboro, 92," he graded. "Good job, son." Today had been nothing but projectile training, which he called javelineering. I had made a marked improvement from when I first started training under him.

The reason behind that: after you complete your weapon, physical training gets replaced by personal weapons training. There are different trainers for different sets and styles of weapon use.

Mr. Sonnati taught projectile spear and lance styles to me and 2 juniors and a senior. They weren't in since they had grimm exterminations to tend to.

The man was quite interesting, having worked at Signal for more than a decade. His weapons were a rack 5 tubes that extended to small, thin, but nonetheless deadly spears. He threw no more than 4 and used his 5th as a normal spear.

Now came the part that I dreaded. After javelineering came practical lessons. Which was essentially me getting knocked around for 30 minutes straight.

"You know what to do next, Gray." He stepped out into a clearing. "Normal rules, you land 3 on me with the lance, you win. You hear your scroll go off, or you get pinned, you lose."

He forgot to mention that he made me set my scroll to beep when I got to 20% aura.

I took position a good distance from him. It didn't matter, since that distance would be closed in a matter of half seconds.

"When the timer starts," he said. His scroll was on its stopwatch function and was loud enough for me to hear.

I steeled myself for pain. _"5..."_ I got a better grip on Thunderstruck. _"4..."_ I flexed the gravity dust attractors, feeling the lance shake smoothly. _"3..."_ I waited. _"2..."_

I was ready. _"1..."_

Mr. Sonnati's size was not an indication of his speed. He moved like a flash of light across the clearing, closing in up on me in no time at all. Halfway across was when he threw his spears.

Within the frame of a second, all 4 of his disposable longarms were launched like literal bullets. Each throw was punctuated by a loud _"snap!"_ and the spears were headed right for me.

I jumped back a few feet and held my lance above and behind my head. My left hand was held out, like a gun sight, in front of me.

The 4 spears each made their mark in the ground, sending large plumes of debris up and towards me. I paid that no mind as I held Mr. Sonnati in my vision, keeping him just above my left hand thumb. In one, slick motion, I loosed the lance and fired the gun within, feeling the jolt of recoil just before I had let go.

The gray and black armament flew. Spinning, the lance lodged itself several feet behind my insructor, who equipped his last weapon.

I picked up one of his spears with my left and pulled Thunderstruck out from behind him. He always started the same way, so I planned to capitalise on his confusion.

Unluckily for me, he grinned in pride.

"You're learning. Good," he said as we were in our weapons' preferred melee distance.

Thunderstruck flew backwards through the air behind him, aimed squarely at his mid back. I held his spear ready for a thrust to prevent him from simply sidestepping Thunderstruck's haft.

And he ducked.

I should have seen that coming.

Thunderstruck flew into my hand fast enough that it made me spin. I used this momentum to clear away from an upwards stab.

Sonnati converted his miss into a jump. Held squarely above his head, he came crashing down with the spear.

I narrowly avoided the stab that likely would have ended the fight. So much energy was transferred into the ground that I literally felt the ground shake beneath me.

Thankfully, his weapon remained atuck in the ground, allowing me to get a free jab in. The lancehead bounced harmlessly off his aura.

I stepped back and poised myself for another strike with his spear that I still had.

A long frame of air gave me all indication I needed: he had dodged. With one final yank, his spear was now free. I leaped away further than I ever had before.

Stabbing Thunderstruck in the ground near me, I tossed his spear into my right hand and prepared to throw. In an instant, he was sprinting right at me, spear held put to attack.

I threw his weapon to him. I misjudged the distance he would be, however, and watched as the thin line fell right in front of him. He didn't lose any speed as he ripped that one out of the ground.

Godsdamnit.

I took Thunderstruck back and folded it into it's rifle configuration. I aimed around and in front of him to slow him down. It worked, but only for a little.

He picked up his pace even more.

Lance mode, Thunderstruck was held out in front of me, like a pilum rampart. Once he had closed in, I fired the mechanism and felt the lance connect.

It wasn't worth it.

It _really_ wasn't worth it.

Overextended, I was helpless as he let the lance bound off of his shoulder. He then used that very shoulder to check me, sending me so far off balance that one poke with his spear set me up for a fall.

On my back, I looked straight up past the canopy. My view to the sky was blocked by him staring down at me, spears held on either side of me throat.

I sighed.

"Well." Concealing his 2 spears in their holsters, he gave me a hand.

"Good job, Mr. Gainsboro. You're learning." Pulling me up to my feet, he patted me on the back. "Maybe try not to panic like that again, though. You keep trying to get me to stop with your rifle, but you never actually hit me. And I know you can."

I folded Thunderstruck into it's compact, box-like form and stuck it onto a gravity dust hardpoint on my back that acted like a holster.

"I guess," I replied. Mr. Sonnati then pointed to his last 3 spears.

"If you would?" I gathered the 3 weapons and brought them back to him.

I'm glad I was improving.

The rest of the course was him walking me through some drills. After that, the rest of my day went without a hitch.

No homework gave me a chance to sleep as soon as I got back. I did just that.

-XXXXX-

"You are not alone," said a strong, firm voice.

I opened my eyes to a clear landscape. Below me was a lush forest of green.

"Nice," I said plainly. I already knew who this was. "May I ask why you have brought me here to tell me that?" I inquired respectfully.

"You will find one other who knows as much as you." I looked to the direction og the voice, but instead cane face-to-face with nothing but a ceiling light. I blinked, but said nothing about it. "They will believe that what they are doing is right. It is not."

"Why? What are they doing?" In contrast to the answer I was looking for, I got something else.

"I had brought you here to seek a better future. Your knowledge of this world, while limited, would have been enough to unite all of humanity. Your actions would bring the change you doubted you could make." The ceiling light morphed fluidly into a lamp. "My brother, though opposed to your intervention, has... agreed... to let you do what you must.

Immediately, I felt the hairs on my back rise. Something was behind me.

That something was... a broken lightbulb.

I sighed.

"So what do I do with this information?"

The lightbulb spoke in a deeper, demanding speech.

"I will not tell you. That will work against my favor." Turning to the lamp... which now was a flickering torch...

"I will not tell you. That would disrespect my brother." I sighed again.

"Will I even remember all of this?" I asked. Looking down, the green forest shifted from green to yellow.

"No." The lightbulb, now a dark cloud said.

I shrugged.

"Well, if that's all I'm gonna get... Can I go now?"

My feet gave out beneath me. The invisible floor dissipated to nothing but still air. I was thrown headfirst into the forest, now turning red.

I oriented myself to look back up. The cloud and torch became the fractured moon and sun, respectively. I felt myself slowly going blind as I stared into the sun's rays.

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Sorry that took so long! I aimed for about 5K words this chapter. Hopefully now I'll be able to upload monthly, but the schedule will likely remain loose. Thanks for reading!

Cheers, Rico.)


	9. Back Home

Desiree held her weapon out to me.

"Here! What do you think?" I took it by its grip.

"What is it?" I asked, minimally perplexed at its shape. It appeared to be a thin unbladed sword with an extra mechanism in the guard.

"It's an estoc. It can turn into a machine pistol." She pressed a button in the pommel of the sword and the whole thing began folding and contorting into something else. Just a few seconds turned the narrow sword into a stout pistol with a bare bones stock plus a long "bayonet."

I ran through the controls of the subgun and was proud in Desiree for having crafted such a simplistically effective weapon. She didn't even ask anyone for help, from what I saw. Unlike me, I made a pretty big mistake and forged my first lancehead too hard and thus brittle. It cracked the day after because I tried to take liberties with the smithing process instead of following the instructions given to me.

"My trainer is the fencing trainer."

I hummed to myself as I thought. Perhaps some lance techniques could be carried over to a thrusting sword? However, I purged those thoughts as being wasteful of time on both her and either one of the lancearm teachers' accounts.

"So what do you think?" She eagerly questioned. I chuckled at her enthusiasm, and began looking deeper into the little nuances in her weapon without dismantling it. Things were well fitted and the tip of the estoc was marvelously pointed. In fact, I nearly stabbed myself by accident just feeling it. I could have, but aura saved me the literal pain.

There was a problem that I had yet to find though. It was miniscule, but present nonetheless.

"What's its name?" I asked. Desiree had the appropriacy of being sheepish.

"Well... I hadn't got there quite yet." Exasperated, I reminded her.

"Weapons are due in a week, Dez." Upon her nodding sullenly, I offered her help. "Do you want me to help you?"

"Can you just give me a few suggestions?"

And so I did.

-XXXXX-

The school year's ending very soon.

The upperclassmen in my section of weapons training are nice, by the way. They're definitely unique personalities.

The senior is the niece of Ms. Astra. Celeste Astra had raven black hair and bright blue eyes and was the strong quiet type. She was undoubtedly the best of all four of Mr. Sonnati's students and even gave _him_ a run for his money.

Her lance was much like mine, though the barrel pointed the same way as the lancehead. For the few times I sparred with her, she kicked my ass. Even the other two girls who were well above my level struggled to get hits in, let alone win.

Like despite the couple of months I've been training, she makes it seem like I just started. I mean, I did kinda just start, but... I digress.

Humbling experiences, let me tell you. Remnant seems to have a way of emasculating people.

I'm not giving up though. Far from it.

Mr. Sonnati lets Celeste take over class sometimes. According to him, even students can teach better than teachers, to which I agree. She gave me and the other two, Sabrina Waters and Gwendolyne Sang great tips.

Unfortunately, she would be graduating soon.

As in tomorrow.

The day had just about ended when she saw me in the hallway and gave me the suggestion to get some armor since apparently it "would fit my style."

I went with Dez to an armorer. She was told by someone else a long while ago to try some light armor. Or so she told me. I think she wanted armor and just used me going as an excuse to get it too.

The armorers Celeste recommended to me were in a studio-sized building. There, they had full plated armor suits on display as primary examples and other types of armors, such as plate carriers and cloth padding, as storeroom examples. I was interested in the plate pieces. I didn't want a full suit of armor mostly because it would make throwing Thunderstruck exponentially more difficult. Armoring majority of my legs was certainly something I would do; doubly so because I was thinking about incorporating kicks into my closer range combat.

I talked to a guy behind a counter while Dez looked for something small.

The store owner, a middle-aged faunus man, took my measurements. He then asked me what pieces I would want. I pondered over it for awhile. What armor could I get away with? What armor would offer maximum protection and would not get in the way?

I decided on getting a torsopiece - one with plating on my side to dissuade stabs around the front plate. My left arm would get a rerebrace and a vambrace and a plating for my glove. My right arm just got a rerebrace. My thighs would get modern-styled leather cuisses with pouches for ammo. Greaves completed my set of armor on my shins and kneecaps.

"Will that be all?" questioned the man, as if to ask me one last time if I wanted a full set. I nodded and he asked another one. "Any specific design details you would like?"

I looked at his loose sketch of my body with the armor pieces. It was artistic and detailed. I hummed in thought.

"Can you make it the same gray as my hair? With a black outline?" The man nodded back and brought out some sort of pen-shaped instrument.

"If you want that, let me scan your hair color." I hesitated a step, but leaned forward. A soft pressure was exerted on my head and a low beep sounded. "Okay... Will that be all? Engravings? Inscriptions? Nothing else?"

It was then that Dez dropped an armor panel onto the counter gently. I turned to her and received a bit of inspiration.

"Actually, make the detailing the same color as her hair," I said. Desiree glanced at me and her red eyes blinked. No doubt I confused her. "I'm getting the colors for my armor." She cocked her hip to one side and her head to the other.

"So the only red you're gonna wear is going to be on that armor?" She rhetorically asked. "No. We need to find some different clothes so that you look better." I sighed, but resigned myself to her whim. Which was likely going to be a shopping spree. Which I would likely have to pay for.

"Alright, fine. Just let him scan your hair color or whatever." I motioned to the shopkeep, color instrument-thing at the ready. Dez leaned forward and the shopkeep scanned. I completed my transaction and he informed me that it would be about a week for my armor to be finished.

Desiree went over her armor. She would be taking the practical type, a few layers of kevlar above a metal plate to increase stab resistance.

Thankfully, the shop owner let her know that if a bullet makes it through both the kevlar and plate, the fragmentation would be worse because of the plate. He guessed - correctly - that Desiree's fighting style revolved mostly around ranged combat. He suggested just the plate carrier plus the kevlar layers with a ceramic plate insert.

"Try not to get too close to what- or whoever it is you're fighting. Those ceramics will shatter like actual glass."

And so, Desiree and I bought armor. I got the more melee-specialised kind and Desiree got the bullet resistant plate carrier plus plates.

"Now, about those matching colors..."

-XXXXX-

I think I've understated exactly how much a junior huntsman's monthly allowance is.

It was enough for a month, but not enough for everything. Most of our parents' "tuition" was our allotment. So when Dad got a scroll call from me asking if he happened to have a couple hundred lien laying around, he was _definitely_ cynical.

"Why, may I ask, Junior?" he asked in a dissuading manner. It was almost as if he didn't want Dez - I mean _me_ \- from spending about 200 lien.

I looked to Dez. She pointed at herself and shook her head. _'I'm_ _not_ _asking!'_ she mouthed. I sighed.

"Well we've been pretty good so far with our budget, but we ordered armor and since it's the end of the month..." I trailed off. Dad bit the bait perfectly.

"You need to pay for the armor." I glared at Dez and she smiled innocently. "Okay. Check your bank card in about 5 minutes."

"Thanks, Dad," I gratified. Before we could exchange farewells, he asked me something.

"You two are out in like, a week and half right? Because Cin's back in two." Dad reminded me of how far behind I was in preparation for packing.

And how far behind I was in preparation for more than just that.

If you couldn't tell, I haven't made any attempts in setting up a web of intrigue among Salem's and Cinders allies. Training to be a hunstman kinda took precedence and a lot of my time.

I silently decided that I would make contact with somebody, anybody, soon.

"Gainsboro?" the sound of my first name made me remember that I was on the phone.

"Oh, uhh... Yeah. After this weekend, we leave on the next Monday," I stuttered out.

"Okay. I'll have your mother pick you guys up by then." He lowered his voice to make it more sincere, "Stay safe. See you two later."

I felt the anxiety of lack of planning pool up in my stomach. Chills went up and down my spine when I thought about how my actions - or lack thereof - could lead to the loss of lives.

It was after about the third chill that I noticed Desiree looking at me almost poignantly. When I did notice her staring, she turned away and grabbed the clothes.

What was that for?

It was on the empty bus ride to Signal that I asked her something to break the imaginary ice wall that grew when Dad and I hung up.

"Sooo," I began, Desiree turning her head to me. "Why didn't you want to ask Dad yourself?" I was genuinely curious.

"Alright, so. You already know that Dad thinks I buy expensive clothes," she said, fidgeting with her hands as if she was trying to help me imagine what she was talking about. "If I asked him for 200 lien, what do you think he would say?"

"200 lien to buy a sweater?" we both said in a slow unison.

"Yeah, exactly." She concluded with: "Do you think he would give his daughter, who spent nearly as much on a single sweater than he does on food a month, that much lien?" She elaborated. "No. Compared to his practical son who basically never wanted anything other than becoming a huntsman? Do you see my point?" Despite me wanting to take the compliment, I made a joke about it.

"Hold on, 'practical' and 'wanting to become a huntsman' do not fit in the same sentence. Dez laughed a little but was still expecting my answer. "But yeah, I guess I see him giving me the lien instead of you," I said, and she smiled. "Buuuuut!" I drawled, turning her argument around. "It was your idea to buy clothes in the first place!" Dez rolled her eyes, still smiling and being a good sport about my remark.

"Oh, whatever." She gave me half a minute before she concluded with, "Now that I think about it... He'd probably lend either of us any amount if he knew we were going to buy armor."

That is probably true.

-XXXXX-

The last day of school came fast since every other day was free of work.

Mr. Wheaton let the remaining students - that being the freshmen, sophomores, and juniors - know that Signal's dorms will remain open throughout the summer. He informed us that if we plan on staying, a few teachers will come around every two weeks to inspect the rooms.

Dez and I were not the audience of that announcement.

Because Mom was in the parking lot.

And she was very excited to see us again. Hugs and all that.

We loaded up our baggage when I remembered that I needed to pick up my armor. Mom humored me and we visited the armorer.

While there, I ran into Mr. Taiyang.

And guess who was with him!

Ruby! Ruby was with him.

"Oh hey sir! What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Oh, Mr. Argent! I was just getting back a piece of armor that I wasn't careful with from my friend." He answered jovially. Then, he brought the much shorter Ruby from behind him in front of him. "Rubes, this is the young man that your sister always talked about. He and his twin sister." Ruby was much more timid than I expected. Like, I knew she had trouble talking to people, but she was quiet.

"This is the guy that she punched in the stomach?" Ruby asked in a low whisper to her dad.

"I'm right here ya know," I deadpanned.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she cowered. I and her dad laughed but then said I that it was fine. She looked uncomfortable but I distinctly remembered that she liked weapons like me.

Good thing I brought Thunderstruck.

"Hey, I heard from Yang that you like weapons. Is that right?" I looked at Taiyang and he nodded cautiously. "Wanna see mine?" Without missing a beat, she said,

"Yes!" I brought it out in its lance form so as to not concern the shopowner who was watching the whole thing. It stood about as tall as her. "Can I..?" I shook my head.

"You can touch it, but you can't hold it. It's probably too heavy." She pouted, but was distracted by and admired the work all the way up and down, specifically the small etching I put on the boltface. Good thing I kept it unloaded.

"Manus Celer Deus? Is that its name?" I shook my head again.

"No, it's name is Thunderstruck." She made a sound that I can only describe as pure awe. However, she looked at me with a blush and tersely said,

"My uncle's is cooler." Taiyang chided her, but I understood on the inside. She does idolise Qrow anyways. "Sorry." I laughed at her apology.

"Don't apologize just yet. Do it if your uncle's is not as cool." With that short riposte, I made Taiyang laugh and had reminded myself that I "don't" know Qrow.

"Okay, well, I'll see you later Mr. Argent!" Taiyang said, grabbing a pauldron. He waved to me and Ruby did the same.

"See you in a few months, sir!" I farewelled. I picked up my armor, in a large, wheeled, wooden and decorated chest, and thanked the blacksmith.

"You'll show us the armor when we get home, right?" Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah."

-XXXXX-

I looked down into my luggage. All of the extra space in it had been taken up by the clothes Dez bought for me. That light gray hoodie was to be replaced with a darker gray one that had maroon thrown in on the cuffs, waistband, hood edges, and zipper. The only other change would be my shoes, which are now steel toed maroon boots with black soles.

Desiree replaced her black skinny jeans with gray ones to match my armor.

Speaking of armor... I'm very satisfied. It's a comfortable fit and looked about as much as I envisioned it. Not surprising, since I told the guy how I wanted it to look.

"Looks good," Desiree said, hand cupping her chin. "Turn around?" she ordered me. Humming, she walked up to me from her vanity table. Her dainty hands shifted the armor into a more snug position. "I think..." she began contemplatively, "that we should put our insignias on both the front _and_ back." We had been reviewing this for the past few minutes in our room while we waited for Dad to get home from work.

"I'd rather just have it on the front where the breast pocket would be. Like the patch on Signal's uniform shirt," I offered. Desiree wanted it full sized on the front and back. "I don't really have any intention of turning my back to my fight- I mean my opponent," I corrected. "I could do small on the front and full size on the back?" Desiree hummed again.

"We could both do that." We hadn't drawn up our insignias yet because they weren't required until the end of the first semester of sophomore year. I had been mulling it over since I designed Thunderstruck, but relegated it to do later. We did have free time now, so maybe we should do it over the summer? "I'm fine with that."

The door alarm to our apartment beeped, followed by our dad mentioning his arrival. Dez put on her red and dark gray digital camo plate carrier, minus the actual armor.

We surprised Dad, who was sitting at the dining room table with Mom. He said nearly the exact thing Mom did when he saw us.

"There you guys are!" He stood up quickly and wrapped both of us in a tight hug. "Wow, you guys are so tall now!" I was now Dad's height, with Dez at his chin. Stepping back, he appraised the armor. "So, this is what you needed an extra 200 lien for..." He rapped his knuckles against my armor and a low thud was produced. "Looks good. Welcome back, you two."

"We're back, Dad," we both said.

Our evening swiftly approached. We lost track of time talking about all of the things that we had done and all of the stress we had gone through. We showed them our weapons and agreed to head out to a firing range to demonstrate; I had no idea both of my parents were gun nuts. I guess I really shouldn't be concerned since they had been surrounded by them at some point in their lives, Mom because of her dad, and Dad because of all the armed guards that have been stationed at the refineries.

-XXXXX-

"I'm home!" Cin yelled. "Hello?"

I walked out into the opposite end of the hallway clad in my armor and held my arms out. As soon as she turned away from the door to lock it, her eyes grew and lit up.

"Oh my gods! Junior!" she ran up to me and wrapped me in the hug I had been offering. "You look so cool!"

"Welcome home, Cin," I said in an equable manner. "Dad's obviously at work and Mom's getting groceries." The eldest asked the next best question.

"Where's Dez? Did she go with Mom?" To which Dez responded from behind her.

"I'm right here, Cin. Welcome home." She didn't even let Cin turn around before she joined the embrace.

"Okay, now that I know that you two are home, you can get my bags." Dez and I shared a groan as Cinna slipped her car keys into one of Dez's plate carrier's pockets. "Love you guys!" she said before she had unlocked, opened, and pushed us out the door.

We were faster than we anticipated. We grabbed her four packed bags in one go with no small amount of assistance from our auras.

Seeing her younger siblings carry a bag she needed two people to carry _in one hand each_ absolutely flabbergasted Cinna. She clenched both of our biceps when we were done and said something along the lines of 'So strong! How much can you guys lift?' I simply told her that she'd be surprised and we carried on the day by letting her boss us around as she asked us personal questions.

We told her that we were going to the firing range so that Dez and I could show them what we could do. It was an familiar feeling, being told that we were doing good by our parents and older sister.

The day came when Dad drove us all to a private outdoor firing range he said his guards went to often when not on-call. It was unmistakably property of the SDC because of the bigass snowflake that adorned the side of the range manager's office.

The range was very quite spacious. Since Dad reserved it, there were few other people and a whole lot of targets and ammunition. There was even a reloading bench with customizable tooling nearby.

Dez and I took turns using each other's weapons. Her machine pistol reminded me of the autopistol from XCOM 2 the Templars used, with the estoc blade protruding so far forward that it seemed more like a sword than a bayonet, for good reason.

I mean, it literally _is_ a sword.

It was well made and had results typical of a modern target pistol.

Thunderstruck was fun to shoot. It always was, but something about a titanic muzzle flash coupled with a report you'd hear from a high caliber sniper rifle just filled me with glee. A few shots without aura made my shoulder sore, but the way everyone flinched was worth it.

While I reloaded the cartridges I fired, Mom, Dad, and Cinna tried out Dez's machine pistol. She disassembled the weapon to remove the blade to prevent any random injuries.

Then, when everyone finished firing the tiny gun, I laid Thunderstruck on the table. Mom and Dez were the only ones who wanted to fire it.

Eventually, they wanted me to throw it as far as I could as a spear. I obliged and loaded a wind-fire dust ammo mixture.

We all stepped out onto the range so as to not get hit by the backblast.

My family stood to the side and I stood squarely. My breathing was even and calm. All sound was drowned out by my heart's rhythmic beating. I counted them out as I raised my hand over and behind my head.

'1-2' the first beat came. Only the middle of my vision became clear; the rest became static.

'1-2' the second sounded. I recentered the balance on Thunderstruck by activating the mid-haft attractor. It didn't move.

'1-2' the third thumped. I narrowed my eyes on the paper target, seeing but not noticing the static from the tunnel vision fading. I shifted my weight back ever so slightly. I cocked my hand as far back as possible.

'1... 2' the fourth finally followed. My hand and hip snapped forward so fast and I barely even thought about pulling the trigger on Thunderstruck. All conditions were met.

My trance ended and all the sound came back in the form of a snap and boom. My initial throw didn't quite break the sound barrier, but the reinforcement from the firing sent it way over. I got hit with the tail end of the backblast of the gunshot, but it wasn't nearly enough to even make me flinch. I had gotten used to that already.

I tried to follow Thunderstruck without aura, but could only see a glint in the air. By the time my family turned to see the lance, the now-vaporized target disappeared in a plume of sand and dirt. Everyone appeared to be utterly stupefied. Including me.

Only Mr. Sonnati and Gwendolyne had done that better! And Gwen's lance was less than a fourth of the weight of Thunderstruck!

Desiree gave the impression of being impressed. It seemed that she had been expecting this. Which is weird, because I had not.

I broke out of my own astonishment and began pulling my pride and joy to me with aura. I had been just barely pulled because of how deep the weapon was buried, but held my ground. Thunderstruck flew back into my hand with a dusty exterior and a rolled edge on the aerodynamic lancehead blade, but not much else.

Something was wrong.

That shouldn't have completely vaporised the target. That's unusual.

Cin, who had been recording this to show to her co-workers, was the first one to say something.

"Wow..." The same was said by Mom and Dad, and Desiree clapped me on my back plate.

"Good job, Gray."


	10. Flowers and Fighters

Metal clashed against metal. A symphony of clattering and the whistle of blades in the wind accompanied the faintest smell of sweat.

That's how I would have wrote out the spar that I'm having with Dez.

A pop from her machine pistol sent her spinning to her right. She converted the centripetal force into a violently swift stab to my dominant shoulder. Thankfully, Thunderstruck's body flung the stab wildly off course.

I tried to punish her overextension, but the kick was met with no resistance whatsoever. She pirouetted around it and made a follow up stab at my fucking head.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, tilting my head to the side. I could feel my last strand of hair in the blade's way get split in half. We had made a deal not to go for either one's head or my... vulnerable anatomy. Aaaaand she literally just took a thrust at my braincase.

"Oh shit, sorry!" Well, at least she had the decency to apologize. She leaped back a good distance and held her estoc down. "I'm sorry, I forgot!" Sighing, I gave a quick roll of my head and flourished Thunderstruck in a spin.

"Ok. Let's continue." Dez and I had been practicing against each other every second day since we got back. On the other days, we did physical training like runs and weights and stuff. Dez has made a huge improvement since I last saw her lift.

Desiree nodded, our signal for being ready. A curt nod back sent her rocketing towards me in a streak of red and a shimmer from her blade. Her lunge was avoided and her follow-up parried.

I assessed my situation. She was setting her next strike up after a feint. Her blade being swung down onto my head but would be stopped short and converted into another thrust after I would open my guard up to block it.

I called her out on her bluff and didn't move in reaction to the overhead swing. Her mouth opened as she pulled her arm back for that thrust, but I slid her legs out from under her with a sweep kick. She fell onto her back immediately and lost the momentum she had been carrying.

I planted Thunderstruck's head under her sword arm and pinned said arm down with my leg.

"You're not thinking," I told her, watching her bright red eyes follow my weapon's lancehead out of the ground. "I get that you forgot about the no-headshots thing, but don't worry about it that much." I say that, but I was the one that didn't want to get stabbed in the fucking face. Dez let out an exasperated exhale and I helped her up to her feet.

"Yeah, I gotcha," she groaned out. Folding her sword away, she grabbed one of the bottles of water on the bench we left our belongings at. I did likewise, stowing Thunderstruck on the metal rack nearby.

We'd ditched our usual attire for more expendable, less restricting gym clothes. By all accounts, we were more flexible and agile.

We caught our breath and I got back up. A flick of my head prompted my twin to do as much as well. Thunderstruck flew back to my hand past Desiree's head. She didn't even flinch.

"C'mon. Two more rounds." My lance was readied in a pumping motion. Dez hopped into place and nodded.

I nodded back and readied to change up my strategy; I was going to attack first.

My sister's weapon disappeared into her red blur. I flexed my arm and aura and felt intense recoil come out from the other side. The equal and opposite reaction gave me an initial burst of speed and it was aimed straight at Desiree's stomach.

"Woah!" I could hear from her surprised expression that I caught her off guard again. I wasn't waiting for my weapon to hit, so I transferred that energy into a wide, chest level swing around.

One of the tips I got from Celeste was to not be afraid of swinging the lance or spear like a staff. What we _should_ be afraid of is swinging it too slow so that it'll open our guard and mess up our stance.

Desiree had to duck underneath the broad attack. I closed out her options with another shot, bringing my arms above my head for a great vertical stab downwards.

She sprang back up and felt the weight of Thunderstruck be parried by a stressed estoc. She vocalised her effort with a yell and Thunderstruck came to a stop against her sword.

What the fuck?

It felt like I was pushing Thunderstruck against a wall, and yet nothing was there. Nothing but Desiree's weapon.

She flung my lance away from her and got to her feet fast. Grabbing the lance yielded with my gloved hand feeling hot. Like feeling a pan on the stove hot. I let my discomfort be known by saying,

"Ah, what the fuck!? That's hot!" And got thrown a good ways from where I was when Hephaestus' Gram hit as hard as a cannon.

My back hit the wall pretty damn hard. A light creeped into what I was seeing, a sound reminiscent of TV static filled my head, and the taste of copper was on my tongue. I got hit so hard I got concussed.

Shaking my head cleared the feeling. I could have fallen forward, but Dez was in front of me and holding me up.

"Ouch, Dee." I got my feet beneath me and was hit with some vertigo. Aura remedied this though.

Dez was bouncing. She was _really_ giddy.

"Gray! Gray! I found my semblance!" She said, _sliding_ across the gym floor like she was skating. "I found it!"

So, like she can skate around? I asked her,

"What do you think it is?"

"It feels like I can... change friction? Or something? Just look!" She then grabbed her bottle and... stuck it to the back of her hand.

Woah.

That's cool.

-XXXXX-

We tested what her semblance's capabilities were at home.

A sheet of sandpaper against another sheet of sandpaper looked effortless to her despite both being rough grit. Her hand against it was likewise effortless.

She even _climbed_ on one of the walls. Cin walked into the room and saw what we were doing and freaked out, but we rectified that.

She used me as a guinea pig and asked me to try to hold her arm. So I wrapped her arm in both of my hands and watched her slip away before falling backwards.

If I had to describe the sensation, it was as if she coated her arms in a dry, nonexistent butter.

When we reversed roles, Dez made the friction coefficient higher for her hands. Her hands felt like they were covered in rubber. Her hands ripped out some of my arm's hairs and legitimately _burned_ my arm.

Aura helped heal it, but the light scar eould be there for a while. Desiree apologized profusely for hurting me, but whatever.

She can manipulate it between herself, and other objects up to a degree of two, so it seems like she can transfer some of her semblance's ability to another object. For example, the fight where she stopped Thunderstruck against Hephaestus' Gram - metal against metal. I put a lot of force into that stab and she only had access to a small surface area. The rest is history.

Oh yeah, Hephaestus' Gram. It's a reference to Hephaestus since he and Dez have some sort of fire motif. Gram because it's a lightweight weapon. I think there was another mythological weapon that had Gram as a name, but my memory betrays me.

Maybe I'll unlock my semblance sometime soon?

I can only hope.

-XXXXX-

Found out today that Katrina lives relatively close to us.

Saw her when Dez and I went to the huntsman gym for sparring when a familiar mane of light purple hair and small, white wolf ears was beating the shit out of a punching bag.

Katrina had picked up the "normal" lance type of fighting. She'd been honing her own unique lance style at the gym.

The day kind of went like this. Dez and I walk in and we see her. Dez goes,

"Hey, is that Kat?" Katrina spins around so fast since she _just_ missed her left hook on the bag. "It is!" Katrina kicks the bag so that it'll stop swinging around and runs to Dee, saying,

"Desiree! What are you doing here?" She says in her calm, modest voice. They hug and they start talking more and then I come up.

"Kat, you remember Gray, right?" She flicks her head to me and continues, "Gainsboro?" Katrina acknowledges me and says,

"Of course I remember him! Mr. Himura won't shut up about how Mr. Sonnati won't shut up about his only student!" She turns to me and goes, "How's your lance?"

Aaaand then we start talking about our weapons. Hers is a broadheaded spear that fires out its head at people. The spearhead's connected to a chain that pulls it back. She keeps a common rifle with her for longer engagements, but her spear, Hellion Bloom, is her go-to.

She thought that Thunderstruck was genius and that the firing action was a brilliant idea, which made me feel nice. Kat even wanted to try it out, so I gave her the gloves (which were just slightly too big for her) and watched her impeccable balance get all malformed by a single gunshot from Thunderstruck.

Desiree had a good laugh. And then she offered to have us spar.

I almost won against Kat if I hadn't tried to stomp on her. She tripped from me placing the haft of my lance behind her foot as she was caught resetting from one of her missed attacks.

I tried to plant my foot on her midsection to keep her down, but she _parried_ my foot.

She parried my foot away from her and threw my balance out.

First off, I'm not making that mistake again. She has aura. She could've taken it.

That being said, she countered me hard. My leg was pulled over my back. Needless to say, but I tapped out.

I should have started with my weapon, but hindsight is invariably 20/20.

But yeah. That was our first encounter with her. She doesn't live near us, per se. She lives close to the gym that Dez and I run to every other day. Which is a few miles.

Thankfully, there are bike lanes that also happen to double as jogging routes. Average mile time for a trained huntsman is more or less three and a half minutes and we're getting close to that.

I like her company. She's nice and pretty knowledgeable. She's also easy on the eyes.

Those wolf ears are a plus too.

Dez seems to like her, so I don't think she would mind having her around more when we train.

Things to consider.

-XXXXX-

"The youngest Slate sibling is probably gonna get kicked out. He hasn't worked out since we got out," Kat predicted. She lives next to the Slate family, a veritable dynasty that has produced some of the greatest huntsmen. Shale Slate, on the other hand, has a lowsy work ethic and a pathetic drive. He's a kind kid, but far too naïve to be a huntsman.

"Shale? Yeah. He's pretty lazy and doesn't push for anything, ya know?" I add, jumping over Hellion Bloom's spearhead as it snaked out at my legs. I set my foot down on its chain extra hard so as to use the tension to pull Katrina in. Didn't work.

"What was his cousin's name? Gab..." Desiree asked, watching our spar.

"Gabbro? Gabby Gneiss?" Katrina asked, letting her spear go and swinging her leg up for an axe kick. "She's doing better than him, but not by much." The thick metal barrel of Thunderstruck stopped her heel from crashing into my head. "Damn!"

I jumped off of the leg behind me, forcing Kat to flip backwards. Her acrobatics, while impressive, were the only option open to her once she threw that failed kick.

As she was coming to a stable standing position, I thrust Thunderstruck squarely to the side of her head. It stopped mere inches from her cheek.

Oh yeah. I fired Thunderstruck too. It nearly flew out of my hands, though I had used the attractors to keep it where it was.

Katrina's hair settled around her face and her wolf ears turned to me. Her eyes widened and flicked to the threat.

"I thought you said no head-"

"I wasn't aiming for your head." I smirked. Her eyes narrowed nonplussed and she shook her head, brushing it against the blade of my weapon.

"Oh, whatever. Five to four." Her concession closed out our tie in my favor, fortunately.

We all sat at the bench closest to the "ring" where we sparred. Kat and I caught our breath while Dez checked her scroll.

"G, Mom wants us home. We're having guests." Uhh... Alright. That was fast.

"So soon? You guys got here like half an hour ago!" Kat whined.

"Yeah... Sorry Kat," Dez apologized. She grabbed her bag and hugged Kat, who then went over to me for a hug.

I obliged, but only used one arm. And then we left.

Anyway, our route back home had no bikers at this time.

"Let's go?" She prompts. Her watch is ready to begin timing us.

"On you." The tone from the watch loosed Dez like an arrow. I sprinted to catch up, using my longer strides to even out the speed. No words were exchanged, but it has become a race.

This had been taking over our return trips since it made us competitive. It pushed our limits. It was also kinda fun in a sibling rivalry way.

Every fourth stride for me both equaled six of my sister's and alternated between exhale and inhale. Things you notice when you've raced your shorter sister a couple dozen times.

We'd tie often because of the advantages and disadvantages we both had. I had longer legs by virtue of being taller than her and could manage my stamina better because of it. However, she was a natural sprinter and had less air resistance from her smaller frame.

The wind was the deciding factor for today. Too much of it worked too hard against me.

I swear to the gods, I wasn't copping out. I mean I was tired but it's not like I didn't want to push myself.

Okay, maybe a little.

-XXXXX-

"Hurry up and clean yourselves up. Your uncle Rhodi and cousin Gardenia is coming over," Dad told us. He has two brothers, Rhodi and Jet, and a sister, Indi.

Rhodi and Indi are the oldest and youngest respectively, with Jet being the second oldest and Grey, our dad, being the second youngest.

Rhodi's daughter, Gardenia, is a freelance huntress working in... I think it was Anima? Near Mistral academy? I'll admit, it was a while ago, bordering about three years when we last heard about her. That was when she graduated from Mistral. She had gotten married.

That was the subject for the visit. They were going to move near us with Rhodi coming along just to see the surrounding area.

Dad was upset about not knowing earlier that he was going to drop by, but otherwise was clearly elated.

"You two should get your armor and weapons on to show your cousin. I think she'll be pleased." With that, we washed up and got dressed.

I pulled the bolt back on rifle Thunderstruck. An empty mag loaded no live round and an oiled action caused no malfunctions.

Dez polished her sword's blade. It gleamed a brilliant luster in the light of our bedroom.

Then Dad called out to Cin.

"Cinna! Can you make some of those pancakes you're good at making?" She called back out,

"Yeah, but we need eggs. Can I take Dez or Junior with me?" She asked, opening Dez and I's bedroom door up. She knew the answer to her question.

"Sure."

And then she looked. At this point, I had just strapped my armor on while Dez was tightening hers. So, of course, I was the Chosen One.

"Junior! You're the Chosen One! We need to get eggs for pancakes." I sighed but resigned myself to pack mule.

"Fine," I barely even vocalised. Thunderstruck stuck to the back of my belt like a magnet when we left.

It was a short drive to the closest supermarket that provided us with the chicken produce plus other ingredients. We got extra syrup and other such components which were of no consequence aside from the price.

Throughout this whole ordeal I kept spotting some character looking towards me. I began to grow suspicious.

Cin and I lined up at checkout. Throwing a look over my shoulder, I could see the figure's long black hair disappear behind the aisle's shelving. I told Cinna that I'll be back promptly and pursued.

I had just rounded the corner when I saw the same thing before I began my pursuit: long black hair followong somebody around the aisle's corner. I sighed internally somehow and kept going.

It was only a matter of time before I was able to catch a better glimpse at the suspect. The girl made me look like an idiot, chasing her around a supermarket, but I called out to her to save at least a little face.

"Hey! Why are you following me?" By this time, Cinna was already out the supermarket and in her car waiting. So she didn't know that I was currently chasing some random person around the market. Changing my pace from a brisk walk to a low jog, I finally caught up to the girl who looked to be about my age. She had led me to the employee side of the supermarket into the warehouse. My suspicion grew wary.

An aggressive pair of shouts echoed in between the rows of store material. Thunderstruck was in my hands in a flash and being forced out of my hands by a bladed gauntlet and heel. Two pairs of striking green orbs set into eyes deadset to fight.

I tore Thunderstruck back from the two girls and readied myself. One of the girls was wearing a black blouse with red frills and a red thigh length skirt. Her arms were covered in black and red striped arm warmers with long metal claws. Her long black hair matched her black knee highs and sneakers. In her hair was a long feather-styled hairpin.

The other one wore a white blouse with light blue frills. Her thigh length skirt was likewise light blue. Her arms were bare sans a corsage on her left wrist. Her hair reached her lower back like the other girl's and had a flower hairpin in it. Her thigh-high boots were white and she walked on their bladed heels.

I've seen these girls before but I was drawing a blank. Whatever the case, I was fighting them now.

Both of them stood close to each other, likely since they fought in tandem. Interesting, but inefficient. They cover each other's weaknesses but don't augment their strengths.

Since they fight together, I need to fight them separately.

The red one jumped up for a flying punch that was telegraphed enough for me to block, but too fast for me to see the white one slide underneath her to kick my shins.

The attack pushed me toward the wall behind me.

Okay, not gonna let that happen again. Deciding against grappling the kicky one, I loosed Thunderstruck lightly behind the punchy one. The clanging did little to distract them, but that wasn't the point.

I made a beeline straight for the girl in red and pulled Thunderstruck in. She was taken unawares by the lance shoving her into me, who then spun her around and wrapped her in a full nelson hold, her arms inaccessible.

"Miltia!" cried the other one. I put the red girl between the white girl and started asking questions.

"Why are you following me?" Miltia bared her teeth and kicked me in the groin. Aura saved me the damage and I tightened my grip around her, but not before wincing. "Why are you following me?!" A subtle pain rose through ny abdomen.

"You were following us!" Miltia bluffed, struggling in my clasp. "Let me go!"

"Bullshit! You _were_ following me!" The girl in white stood patiently, waiting for me to slip up. So I reinforced myself with even more aura. Thunderstruck flew to my hand to punctuate my determination. "I'm a huntsman-in-training, so you better tell me right fucking now!"

And for once, I understood the authority huntsmen carried with them. A tense silence fell upon the three of us as the white one blinked twice and stood down. The one called Miltia still wriggled around, but it was more out of discomfort than a fighting instinct.

"No weapons," I demanded. A pair of blades were detached from a pair of heels. Guess she's being honest enough. Letting Miltia go, I gave her a light shove to what I now assume was her sister, looking at their resemblance. She threw a glance over her shoulder, but didn't act on her anger or whatever that emotion was. Her sister pulled her in.

"Are you alright?" she asked, petting her sister. I swept her bladed heels away as Miltia unbuckled her gauntlets and dropped them too. "Ugh, Junior told us _nothing_ about this guy." Flinging the gauntlets behind me, I resumed questioning.

"Okay now that you know what you got yourselves into, why were you following me?" The two girls clung to each other closely and gradually sunk to the floor to sit. I sighed at their silence but knew they had no other choice than to reply. "You're in a bad spot right now, so just answer me already." I massaged my head to nurse the headache from the adrenaline withdrawal.

They looked at each other, trembling, and gave me this answer in unison:

"Somebody contracted us to." A slight bit creepy but that's aside the point.

"Who?" I asked. This is all kinds of bad. Have I been found out?

"We don't know. Our employer just gave us the folder." I squinted at that. So it wasn't quite anonymous, but there was a level of confidentiality in it.

"Your employer, who is he? What do you two do for him?" There was a small chance that they were contract killers. Their skill, or lack thereof, contradicted that.

The girls glanced at each other yet again. A variety of expressions fluttered across their faces before Miltia nodded.

"He is an... informant. We simply gather information for him." I hummed. Informant? That sounds like a good place to start.

"Say, perhaps, I want to contact him about this... How would one go around to doing that?" Well I definitely confused them. They stared at me with countenances of complete astonishment. First I overpower and have them surrender, next I express a desire to buy their employer's services. They were shrewd in the dissemination of information. Props to them.

"How do we know that you aren't just planning to rat him out?" red asked.

"Well I haven't reported you two just yet for harrassment and assault, have I?" Pulling out my scroll prompted them to bristle in fear. "Now, I'm sure at least one of you has a scroll. Would you be so kind as to give me a point of contact?" The two were so unbelievably bewildered but complied nonetheless. I added their numbers but paused because I didn't get their names. "What are your names?" They were wise in hesitation and practical in answering.

"Melanie," said the white clad one.

"Miltiades," said the red dressed girl.

"Malachite," they finished in one voice.

Uhh... Okay?

"I'll keep in touch." With that, I pardoned myself from their company and ghosted them. I went the way I came into the warehouse. Some bagger or cashier saw me in a place where I wasn't supposed to be but didn't do anything past step out of my way. I was out the store in record time.

I buckled into Cinna's car as she was busy playing around with her scroll.

"What took you so long?" she asked, putting her device away and shifting gears.

"I had to use the restroom. Let's-"

"You're bleeding!"

"What?" Sure enough, the hand I used to massage my head had a thin line of blood, as did my left forehead. When was this?

"Oh, I was messing around with Thunderstruck in the restroom after I finished. Don't worry about it." Aura mended the damage done to me in a second.

I opened up my scroll and saw a fresh set of messages. One from Dad, 'You guys done yet?' and one from each of the Malachites, 'Yes, we're twins.'

I put both of them in a group chat with me.

'How much do you know about me?'

'ur name, ur moms and dads, and now that ur a junior huntsman' Melanie speedily replied.

"Who are you texting?" Cin asked, peering over my hand.

"Some friends from Signal." I put that away and pulled my scroll further away from elder's gaze. She pouted but focused on the road again.

'Why are you still answering my questions?'

'Because you have enough information about us to get us arrested.' Miltia answered politely. 'You have us in a bad spot, but we're your only way to our manager.'

'I see.' I sent.

'hes not gonna be happy, mil'

'I'm sure, Mel.'

'Okay, well good luck to telling him you were compromised, ladies.' Smug was a large part of that parting message.

And the ride home was over. I helped bring in the, like, two groceries and Cinna basically ran into the kitchen to make some breakfast cakes.

It wasnt even ten minutes later that the doorbell rang.

"Little G!" yelled a voice not dissimilar from my dad's though heartier and deeper. I reacted to the name shared by my dad and me and went to the door to answer it. Protocol came second nature to me.

"Who is it?" Basic precautions to take when allowing one to enter. The intercom must have betrayed the difference's and my voice and my dad's voice, because Uncle Rhodi told me,

"It's Rhodi! And Little Gardenia! Come on now, Grey." The entrance was unlocked and opened. Dad came into the doorway's hallway, but not before Uncle Rhodi saw me behind the other side of the door. "Is that... Junior?"

"Hi Uncle Rhodi," I managed to squeeze out of my lungs as he squeezed me in a bear hug. He dwarfed me in both height and width. "Hi Gardenia."

His daughter did the same to my height. She stood a whole head taller than me.

"Dad you're crushing him."

"Yeah, Rhodes. Gainsboro looks like he wants to tap out." The two brothers greeted each other gratefully. "How's Chloe?"

"Oh, she's fine. Just holding down the store while we're here." He said. "Where's Carmen? Carmine?"

"It's Carmine, you fat pig," Dad jabbed in good spirits. "She's here. Cinna's cooking something up and Desiree is..." Dad looked over to me. I shrugged. He finished, "in her room. Come on, let's talk. Junior, take Gardenia to your room for now."

"Just over here." I did as instructed and led her to my room. Dez was still in there, handloading ammunition for Hephaestus' Gram.

"Hey Gardenia." I pulled my chair out from my desk to offer to her. She took it graciously.

"Wow, you two have grown," our cousin marveled. "So I hear you two are going the huntsman route?" Gardenia's weapons, a heater shield and a claymore, were placed in her lap. The shield contained the sword's scabbard and currently the sword itself.

Gardenia held the shield parallel to the ground and tugged the hilt of her claymore towards the floor. The shield folded around the sword and the blade revealed a thick barrel.

Her combination weapon was a shotgun with a face shield. A quick pump told us that she didn't expect any enemies in this trip.

Which is a good thing I guess.

"Yup!" Desiree stood up from her desk finished with her loading and sat cross-legged on the floor. She pushed against the wall and started sliding around, pushing against the walls she came close to colliding with.

"That's her semblance. Something like friction manipulation." Before Gardenia could even _think_ about asking me, I added, "I don't know mine yet."

"Let me see your weapons."

And a good part of an hour went that way. Since Her fighting style was drastically different from Desiree's, she would only be able to offer limited advice. Gardenia's style and my style didn't mesh at all, unfortunately.

But that was to be expected.

As she inspected my instrument, I asked for hers. She obliged, and I got my hands on a shielded-shotgun.

It was front-heavy but had a handguard around the pump, likely another part of the shield. I pulled the grip of the shotgun to align with the rest of the gun and it all unfolded back into the sword and shield.

Emblazoned on the front of the gray shield was an olive drab fleur de lis. Inboard on the fleur de lis was a white stylized 'A,' made to look like a drawn bow.

"What's this? Your emblem?" I asked, tracing it gently with my finger. On her shoulder was a patch that had a highly stylized flower emblem.

"No, that's our family crest." Pointing out her patch, she said, "This is my emblem." Immediately, I broke out my scroll and snapped a picture.

"Oh, okay. Thanks."

The rest of the day involved her asking us numerous questions about numerous subjects. We gave her answers to the best of our ability, and that proved satisfactory. She gave off an impression of being sad or guilty, but I pushed that away. She probably just missed her husband or fiancée or whatever he was to her.

Dad, Mom, and Uncle Rhodi summoned her and they had a good talk and pancakes and then Rhodi and Gardenia were out the door.

It didn't matter much to me. I got to work right away on emblems.

"What are you doing?" Dez asked as I sketched out the framework for an insignia. I waved my scroll, signalling to her that I sent the image to her. "The family crest? I mean, we could use that, but we aren't Schnees."

"Yeah. I'm basing my emblem _around_ it though." I shook my head and crumpled up the paper. A lightning bolt doesn't work so well with it.

Desiree looked at the crest and murmured softly to herself. She grabbed a sheet of grid paper and began on her emblem, finishing it in record time.

"What do you think about this?" Her fleur was encircled by a pseudo-triangular shape. I realized then that it was the SDC label for fire dust.

I eould have done the same but the label for electric dust is literally just a lightning bolt again.

I gave it some time. Desiree folded up her paper to commission it from a professional artist to submit to Signal's offices.

Clouds? Nope.

My twin came back to my desk.

"Nothing yet?"

"No."

"Do you want me to draw something up for you?" Peering over my shoulder put my face to face with her. Her expression was warm aand hospitable and her words were sincere.

I bit my lip in consideration.

"Might as well. Thanks, Dee."

She was at her desk doodling in a second. By the time I cleaned up my desk and went to hers, she had completed.

That was fucking fast.

Her emblem for me was like this: a circle with portions hollowed to create an inward spiral. In the middle of it all was the fleur de lis and 'A.'

For some impossibly uncertain reason, the emblem resonated with me. It felt like I had an intimate and clearly distinguishable connection to it. I loved it.

"That looks great!" I said, grabbing the paper. Desiree looked increasingly happy with herself for every second I peered at her drawing. "Thanks again Dee. Let's contact an emblemist?"

"Hell yeah. Let's."

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Hey! Rico here.

Thanks to all of you guys! I never expected to get to 100 follows and over 60 favorites! It means a lot to me, really and truly!

Thank you for reading! Happy Easter and as always,

Cheers, Rico.)


	11. The Informant

'our employer wants sum info on u' Melanie messaged. My scroll was on for the reason of a lazy Saturday.

I squinted and groaned. Really? Even though his agents were caught he still wants to know something about me?

'What kinda info?' I requested. Well, in for a penny, in for a lien.

'misc info, doesnt matter' I chuckled at the vaguely personal desire to not leave(figuratively) empty-handed. Fail your job at gathering data on someone? You only if you can't learn anything about them.

Giving the details of me some thought, I got out of bed and took to taking a shower. By the time I finished up, I had thought of something that was simultaneously insignificant and worthy of note.

'I can play guitar and piano.' Melanie received. Then was asked, 'Is Miltia there?'

'shes on guard duty'

Okay. Sure.

'why, u dont wanna talk to me?' Woah, calm down.

'No, I just feel like you two would be stuck together more often. You're fine.' Insecurities surfacing or just some sort of test? Remnant might never know. 'Anything else?'

A moment of radio silence fell upon Melanie whether it be her being busy or just not wanting to continue this conversation. Regardless, she changed subjects.

'who was that girl u were with? ur gf?' Melanie grilled. I laughed.

'Ha ha, no. That was my sister.'

'she doesnt look like ur sis'

'Well she is.' What kind of argument was that? 'So that file you have has my name along with my parents'? That's it?'

'we would have more if we could get into signals database' she quickly met. 'height, weight, etc'

'Alright. When can I meet your boss?'

'not yet'

And that was the end of that conversation, much to my dismay.

"Who was that?" a dreary and drowsy Desiree whispered. Her blackish red hair was strewn all about her bed and her red eyes were half-lidded in exhaustion.

"Some girls I-" and I realized I made a mistake. Dez's eyes shot open and the drifty murmur in her voice completely vanished.

"What were their names? Are they from Signal?"

I sighed deeply and fell back into my chair.

"You'll meet them soon enough."

That might be a decision I'll regret, but at least it'll save me the trouble of saying "Oh, they were stalking me for someone else."

Believe me, hearing about how somebody wants to learn about me and remain anonymous is _very_ concerning. I couldn't sleep thinking about that.

Have I been found out? What are their intentions?

 _Why are they searching for me?_

Fuck.

-XXXXX-

This just in: Winter Schnee, heir-apparent to the dust conglomerate that is the Schnee Dust Company has enlisted with the Atlesian Military, rendering her status as heir null and void.

Alright, well that puts Weiss in the spotlight.

To be honest, I had forgotten that Winter had forgone her inheritance of the SDC to join the military.

Imagine how much lien I could've made if I wrote an article on that...

Dad went to work and came back with the news. Also, he's been advanced to Vale's regional director.

That was last week. Winter dropping the title of heir was more than two. School starts again in a month.

The emblem designs came back to us. Dez got patches for her plate carrier and I got some stencils for my plated armor. I took my armor to a printing shop and they put the gray insignia on my gray armor with a black border to help distinguish the emblem from the armor.

Also just in: mass bombing in a Central Vale neighborhood following anti-violent riot measures kills 8, injures 184. Initially, it was peaceful, as all protests begin.

And then someone within the crowd with a mask stabbed a state guard. The crowd cheered the man on even as armored vehicles and huntsman-level control officers pulled up. The wall of thick metal shields kept the galvanized crowd from going in and burning everything down.

It was hours of tension until a small vehicle screeched into the road and more masked assailants, armed with small arms, began to open fire on the riot control. The shields, both physical and aura, nullified the weapons and those assailants were then subdued by another huntsman-officer.

This brought him close to the subjects, who detonated themselves. Many in the crowd were injured. Six of those injured died, the state guard who was stabbed couldn't receive medical attention in time, and the huntsman was brutalized.

If not obliterated.

The worst part about it all?

 _All_ _of those protestors were faunus._ They protested the incarceration of a faunus minor who was going to be charged for murder as an adult. Those among the crowd thought that it was a racial issue and that court proceedings shouldn't progress in that matter.

I'd rather not comment on the politicality of the trial, but one thing I can say for certain is that Adam or whoever is in charge of this White Fang cell is going to make human-faunus relations much, much worse in a matter of months.

It was shocking to say the least. Of course with that, Grimm attacks scaled up drastically.

That's not good.

-XXXXX-

So Desiree and I were received back at Signal in the same way we were received as first years. Yang hasn't changed yet, unfortunately, but Katrina has.

She's dyed her naturally orchid-colored hair into pure white. She couldn't change her correspondingly colored eyes, but she didn't fret over it. Her rationale behind this change was to be able to hide her wolf ears in her hair, or so Dez tells me.

Sure enough, the first time I saw her in the halls she minded herself with her head down. Her perky ears were pressed to her hair and she seemed jumpier than normal.

Oh and I have _not_ forgotten the libido a teenager goes through thanks to a reminder in the form of a schoolwide assembly at an irregular hour to discuss the promotion of safe-sex habits.

Like... Okay...

This was because a female huntsman-in-training had gotten pregnant and was therefore expelled, alongside the male involved and this year's batch of passives in the freshmen class.

Second year classes involve greater lengths of time dedicated to grimm studies since we would be going on our first expedition to slay some of the monsters of pure evil. Such as,

"Beowulf, ambipedal werewolf Grimm." And,

"Creep, bipedal unique Grimm." And lastly,

"Nevermore, avian-flight capable raven Grimm."

These were all of the "low-level" examples explained to us by a certain Selene Fuller, second-year dedicated grimm studies teacher with white, gray, and black as her colors. She had an incessant drone to her voice that somehow meshed perfectly well with her counterintuitive teaching style.

"A bunch of fuckin' jokes of Grimm," she said, the class erupting into mildly confused laughter. Our first impression of her was that of _"Oh, dear Gods, this is our teacher? Hell yeah!"_

She constantly injected jokes and footage into her lessons, all the while going quite in-depth into their behavior,

"All of them are stupid. Except the old ones. They're slightly less stupid," she casually remarked as we were forced to watch a man get ripped apart by a beowulf. "This guy died because he didn't have aura. Sucks." She sighed and paused the video. "Never underestimate them." Her even, consistently unassuming voice was easy to listen to, but belied no emotion. It seemed almost concerning.

"Ma'am, why have you only shown us these three types?" Some random kid in the back asked. One of her eyebrows went up and she said,

"You aren't gonna find anything tougher than these in your Grimm exterminations. Your chaperones will be the ones fighting the bigger, deadlier ones that'll probably tear you up in a thought." She pulled up a diagram of a beowulf's "anatomy." It was pretty simple: aim for the head or the belly. Those were the only words scribbled onto the diagram likely due to Grimm not having any necessary organs aside from the head... for some reason.

"Your first exterminations are in three weeks. Get studying, get training, and as always," she stopped to glance at all of us once, "Get good."

Little jokes like that can only be taken in good humor because as it stands, she's possibly _the_ most talented former huntsman in Signal. We have no evidence of it actually happening, but Mr. Taiyang had gotten close to her kill count. She is extraordinarily acrobatic and in-tune with her aura.

She also used to be the staff instructor. Her style was dropped and she was reassigned to teaching once it was discovered that she expected her pupils to be on par with her acrobatics.

Combat advice from her is nonetheless not to be taken for granted.

Selene is very shamelessly a character of dark humor. I think it's admirable how she manages to joke about the beings whose sole purpose is to kill us all. It's a clever way of distracting us from the gruesome and keeping us on our toes. Her macabre comedy is the byproduct of a lifetime of being a huntsman:

Hopelessness. The feeling that no matter what you do, you're just another drop in the ocean.

Bleak doesn't even begin to describe the feeling.

Regardless, she exemplifies the survivor. No matter the tragedy, she has seen much and pushed through.

More classes approached familiar territory. A good example would be Second-Year Combat Sciences which is like First-Year Combat Sciences, but Second-Year. Oh, and there's more subjects to cover. Mrs. Tasi Peters is in charge of that class.

Physical Training would be taken over by our weapon trainers, so Mr. Sonnati would be my and Sabrina's and Gwendolyne's spotter.

Civil Studies curriculum is now more focused on civilian fields of education. It isn't really out of the ordinary that Mr. Luce would be teaching that.

And lastly, Aura Fortification and Augmentation is facilitated by the severe Surya Crescente, a short, Napoleonic man with a hot head. He was the hand-to-hand trainer in one of the other of the junior huntsmen academies but later got an offer in Vale's police force which led to him moving and taking a job here in Vale. He then retired from the police force and got a job at Signal.

We're due for training all the way up to third quarter. Then we'll be taking Grimm extermination expeditions while the weapons instructors get to handle the freshmen.

Still no word from the Malachite girls.

Well, cheers to another start of the year at Signal. Good fortune and all that.

-XXXXX-

"Kick his ass, Gwendolyne!"

"Kick her ass, Gray!"

Mr. Sonnati and Sabrina watched as Gwen and I danced among the leaves. Her eloquent movements were beautifully orchestrated around my attacks, and her menacingly smart thrusts were only barely denied by my armor.

I shoved her out hard. Aside from buying me precious space to make use of, it gave me time to collect my thoughts.

She relied heavily on speed and cunning methods to isolate me from my weapon.

I caught my breath up and lowered my center of mass. She would likely coming barreling back at me in the next few seconds to try to knock me off my feet.

She came at me from the front, numbing my hands with her semblance. They seized up around Thunderstruck and I ducked.

She reverse somersaulted behind me while I was lower down and thrust at my head. Rolling my head out of her spear's path, I regained feeling in my hands and swung low at her knees.

In a fluent motion, she hopped high and stabbed down at the ground. This attack's intent wasn't to hit me, but rather get in Thunderstruck's way. My lance recoiled and shook off of hers and was stopped. The shock of the strike came reverberating back to my hand, causing a dull ache to flutter through it.

Then she jumped off of her spear and aimed straight for my face as her boots came down.

My head was rocked back by the double-heeled kick. Aura kept my neck from snapping, but it was sore nonetheless. A ringing of a whistle and the flavor of metal were terribly familiar.

Then she stepped off of my face and gathered her weapon.

"Ow... Fuck..." I groaned. I popped my neck - painfully, I might add - with a twist and laid face up on the ground.

"Did you knock him out?" Sabrina's cheerful and presently curious voice rang out.

"No, but I laid him out." That she did. Gwen's soft-spoken and calm intonation indicated no pride or disdain. "Are you alright there?"

"Ahh... Just give me a minute." I stared up into the canopy above watching as the brown leaves fell around and crunched beneath me. The wind blew across my hurt face as if to cool off the pain that the kick had stowed there.

It was a cool day: many clouds and no rain and a very good chance of calm winds. It was also an unfortunate day: Mr. Sonnati made us go outside and spar, as did many of the other instructors.

"Mr. Gainsboro, are you alright my son?" The concern was very welcome but unnecessary. I clambered up to my feet and pulled Thunderstruck to my cold hand.

Gwen's semblance is unassuming, yet easily underestimated. She can make somebody's blood warmer or cooler depending on how much blood she is targeting and how much aura she pumps into it. Her typical strategy was to make somebody's hands cold enough to numb them and then to disarm them.

She started the spar by numbing my hands and launching her spear at my lance. She had done this before, so I pulled my arm away from her weapons. Unluckily for me, this gave her enough of an opening to kick me in the stomach.

She almost lost that fight though. Her constantly numbing of my hands pulled a lot of aura out of her.

"I'm fine sir." Rolling my head around relieved some stress that built up. "Sore now, but fine."

"Okay. Now wrap it up," prompted Mr. Sonnati.

Gwen's hand was taken by mine in a handshake.

"Good fight," nodded I.

"Good fight," nodded she.

And this entire time, Desiree was watching.

"Nice job! You messed him up!" Wait, why was she here?

"Dez! Why are you here?" I yelled across the forest clearing to her. She casually approached us.

"Madame- er... Mrs. Treuse released us early." Charlotte Treuse preferred to be called Madame for whatever reason. She's friendly to you if you call her that.

"Oh, I hardly mopped the floor with him," Gwen not-boasted. Upon me looking at her she amended, "I'm just kidding, Gray."

"So who's this?" The innately curious Sabrina asked. Oh. They didn't know I had a sister.

"My twin sister Desiree," I introduced. "This is Gwendolyne - with an 'e' at the end - Sang, Sabrina Waters, and Mr. Bastani Sonnati." The mentioned greeted Dez in varying ways; Gwen with a courteous "Nice to meet you," Sabrina with a pleasant "You're so pretty!" and Mr. Sonnati with a simplistic "You and your brother look so much alike."

"So what brings you over here?" Gwen rested against her spear.

"Boredom, more than anything." Desiree took Thunderstruck from me and inspected it, to my vexation. She racked the bolt and I caught the round expelled by that action. "What time is it?"

"I'm gonna dismiss 'em soon," Mr. Sonnati checked his scroll. "Do you guys want to leave now?"

And we agreed unanimously and went our separate ways. Except Desiree and I. We both went back to our room.

But then my scroll received a message.

From Miltia.

'We are here.'

I hadn't even finished reading the sentence when I received another message from the school's administrator via the mainframe.

'You have a visitor. Report to the conference room.'

Wait wait wait wait wait. They're here? At Signal? Now?!

"Uhh... I'm getting called to the... office," I excused, ducking out of the room. Briskly walking, my mind was full of panicky thoughts like "Oh shit oh shit oh shit."

Coming up to the oaken conference room door, I knocked lightly.

"Come on in," a husky voice echoed through the door. Doing as told, I came upon the sight of an enormous man wearing slacks, a white dress shirt, and a black vest over a red tie. His eyes were shielded by some sunglasses. Flanking him on either side were the Malachite girls, who... oddly waved at me in a friendly manner.

They stood at one side of the austere conference room. A large, elliptical table sat in the middle surrounded by a number of chairs. Mr. Wheaton sat across the three guests.

"There he is," said my school headmaster. "Is there anything else you need?"

The man tilted his head down respectfully and denied.

"No, but thank you."

Mr. Wheaton bowed and left the room through the door behind me. Me, awkwardly standing at the door, flinched just a tad when the giant of a man said,

"Take a seat."

I did as told. He did likewise across from me and kicked his feet away from him to stretch out. Pulling off his sunglasses revealed a pair of dark gray eyes, much darker than mine. He let out a sigh of relief and began talking.

"Alright, kid. You wanted to talk to me and I'm here. Since you did the girls a favor _by not turning them in_ ," he harshly remarked, glancing over at the twins. Miltia tucked her head down and Melanie rolled her eyes. Then he continued without missing a beat, "I could supposedly let you know something. But first," He trailed off.

"Why did you want to get into contact with me?" He leaned forward, narrowed his eyes and placed his folded hands in front of his face.

"I heard that you are an informant-"

"Okay, not so fast," he stopped me. "Do you know who I am?" I carefully considered saying yes, but said no.

"No. I don't." He rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned in faint frustration. If I had said yes, he would have likely carried the conversation far too fast for me to handle.

"I'd rather not be called informant. Officially, I own a bar a little ways off from Central Vale." Shaking his head, he leaned back once more. "But at this point you know that I gather details on people, factions, things, et cetera. My name is Hei Xiong. Just call me Junior."

"It's safe to assume that you know my name. Call me Gray." Now it was my turn to ask questions. "Who contracted you to learn about me?"

"Truth be told, kid... I don't know." Fucking really? Well this has turned out to be fruitless. "All that I _do_ know was that it was a she and that she wore some sort of full-face helmet and a black cloak or coat or something." His eyes turned up to the corner as if he was struggling to remember something. However, he said nothing further. Aside from, "That was your first free question. You get one more freebie, but the next ones are gonna cost you."

Of course he would.

Pondering over all the possible questions, I asked him,

"How can I contact you for later? Where exactly is your bar?" Junior narrowed his eyes just a tad.

"That was two questions, kid. I'll be generous and answer them both for free, though." He pulled his scroll out of his pocket and placed it on the table. "Put your number on this and I'll let the rest come through." The man scratched his beard and the girls shifted from one foot to the other. "We need to get going." Junior got up to leave.

"Thank you for your time." I also got up.

"You shouldn't thank someone who's gonna rip you off, kid." Junior left after having said that. Then the Malachite twins, in an arresting unison, said,

"We'll be seeing you." Then they left.

I went back to my dorm dejected and irritated. He didn't know who asked about me? The fact that she wore a mask and a cloak eliminated a plethora of variables and added a lot more.

The bell rang through the school and informed us that our next classes were to be attended.

Damn.

-XXXXX-

Submitted emblem designs are a permanent thing. On Remnant, huntsmen and huntresses are akin to that of celebrities: each has a unique method, expertise, and personality.

Which is why emblems emblazoned on everything a huntman owns is a symbol of ownership and responsibility. No two huntsmen/huntresses can have the same emblem. With certain exceptions.

Some of my classmates tried to make unoriginal and uninspired emblems to no avail. Common tropes are thunderbolts and fire and a snowflake.

We had been reminded before that the snowflake was an intellectual property of the SDC and that we could quite literally get sued for having it.

So that would make emblems not dissimilar to a trademark. My twin and I therefore "trademarked" our weapons. And her newest one.

I've managed to convince the younger of us to obtain a longer ranged option to supplement her sword.

Her response was to submit a design specification to a weapon designer. She got her design back and went to work the day after, using her after-school hours to forge it up.

It came back as a bolt action high caliber rifle. Very easy to make in comparison to any of the combination weapons. It was maneuverable and compact, due to it being able to break down into the barrel and then the action plus stock.

It looks eerily similar to a Halo SRS99 or more closely, a Denel NTW-20, but that might just be me. I haven't seen anything Halo since 14 years ago. You can't blame me.

She doesn't seem to want to make use of it just yet, but she'll waver soon enough. Hell, she might even drop the fencing practice to take up improvised weaponry.

Now isn't that a topic to cover. There are a lot of weapons and styles to cover in a class of about three platoons. The kicker is when all of those students _must_ have a weapon and emblem almost completely unique to them. Eventually, a student will come up with a weapon so novel and completely individual that the current styles and methods won't match up. The more special the weapon is (i.e. the more weapons worked into a design) the higher the chance that design will end up in the improvised weapon class.

It also works the other way around: the least amount of forms a weapon has, the more creative the wielder must be. Ergo, the least special a weapon on Remnant is, the more special it is.

It's really quite ironic, but makes sense in a sort of erroneously backwards way.

Thus, I would bet some serious fucking lien that she would create a martial art for her anti-material rifle.

In the meantime, it sits in our dorm room in its two parts. I would say I'm looking forward to shooting it, but I would be lying if I didn't say I'm a little scared for when it kicks back.

So yeah. She has a nice gun.

One that she isn't taking to her first expedition. Tomorrow.

Surprisingly, Junior - that is the big guy who employed the Malachites - hasn't reached out to me over the winter break. He still hasn't, up to now with my class and the upperclassmen going on Grimm exterminations.

Our class of a good sixty or so were all broken up into eights. Each eight of us will be accompanied by two active huntsmen. Every eight is divided into four pairs.

Bruno Crocuta is my battle-buddy for the expedition. I remember him for stealing my civil studies homework last year, the cunt.

He's a vicious guy, to say a little. His weapons are a pair of bear traps essentially strapped to his knuckles. He punches something and they clamp down on it. The teeth are particularly noteworthy since he can imbue them with different dust types, though he favors earth dust to make sure that whatever or whoever his weapon bites can't just pry the jaws open. He can release them whenever he wants and can even just detach the jaws if he _really_ needs to get away.

He's of average height and build with mostly brown accents and some black spots to match the hyena ears on top of his head. The punches he throws aren't actually powerful, but they're definitely fast. He likes engaging close and his weapons help with that.

We were given a week to prepare provisions and toiletries for the week-long trip.

I followed the guide list moderately closely. Absolutely no junk food was one of the most important rules, so I packed a decent amount of trail mix and jerky. Caffeine would make us sweat, so I took fire and water dust to purify water. The MREs provided by Signal are good, but bulky, so I only took one for each day. No sleeping bags, since they are also bulky and aura could protect against the elements. Try not to bring clothes, because it's just more space taken up. Alternative fire kits for multiple uses are handy, so I took a striker and extra fire dust. A knife is always good to have, so I snapped an Atlas (Swiss) army knife to a carabiner. Perishable food is a bad idea. I followed that one to a T and brought none.

Then came the ordinance. That's what took up most of the volume and weight of my gear, but I only took a moderate amount of it.

All of it fit into a backpack.

Attendance would be mandatory and in the early morning. After the expedition, all sophomores, juniors, and seniors would be given four days to recover before class would resume yet again, followed by more expeditions at the start of the next months.

Tomorrow is going to be different, for sure. Some of us might not come home.

-XXXXX-

"Dez. Dez. Dez, wake up," prodding didn't seem to have any effect on my sister, who slept unmoving. It was still dark out, but we needed to wake up anyway.

Well, she did. I was already up.

"Desiree. Desiree Argent. Wake up." Washing my hands, I went to her and began letting droplets of water fall on my twin's face. This had the desired effect of provoking her eyes to snap open.

By this time, I had been ready to leave. She was the slower of the two of us, and only I could see that. I left her summarily after that and brought myself, Thunderstruck, and my single backpack to the platform I would depart from.

My group would be heading to the highest levels of Signal's imposing arena to take a "bullhead" VTOL dropship to our site. The landing pads on Signal's arena's tower are where we are to report.

Stepping out of the dorm, I was greeted with a gust of chilled, humid air and the sight of dark walkways barely illuminated by tall, slender lampposts. I was not the only student to be awake this early: strewn about sparsely were older students sitting on the benches that littered the area.

Making my way to the arena was easy. I ascended an elevator not to the top floor, but the second highest labeled "airway." I swallowed and allowed my ears to equalise before the doors opened.

I was the first person to the top of here it seemed. I expected the doors to open out to an unenclosed set of landing pads, but instead it rolled opened to a dim, windowed concourse with double doors that led to the exposed landing pads. On one of those landing pads was a vehicle not unlike an V-22 Osprey with jets.

Tail number: RT4742.

That's my ride.

The doors leading to it were thrown wide as I strode carefully outside.

The howling winds were eclipsed by the whirring engines of the aircraft I was headed to. A woman leaning on its side approached as I did.

"You coming with me?" Before I could even think of an answer, I was interrupted with, "Lemme see your mission itinerary." My scroll had that, so I passed it to her. "Hmm. Okay. You're with me. You know where anyone else is?" I shrugged and shook my head. "Well then. You can wait inside the terminal or inside the 'craft. If you wait in the terminal, don't fall asleep. If you wait in the bullhead, it'll be hard to sleep, if you're gonna. Your call."

"Can I wait in the bullhead?" I used to be interested in aeronautics with my best friend, Nathan, on Earth, so the engines actually sounded quite therapeutic.

Nathan looked a lot like me. A lot of our classmates thought we were brothers, but we obviously weren't. He had been rejected for an Air Force ROTC scholarship due to a color deficiency in his right eye but ironically got accepted to the Air Force Academy. We used to talk about how we would both apply to the same college after highschool. And if that didn't happen, we would both join the Air Force.

That...

I wished that happened. It's only now that I think about the life that had been stolen from me.

I clambered into the bullhead joylessly and kept track of my breathing even as the doors to the bay shut behind me.

The noisy thrusters were muted by the thick doors and I closed my eyes. I sat in the inconvenient seat with my arms crossed and my effects underneath my legs as I drifted out of consciousness.

-XXXXX-

 _"Even a man who has nothing can still offer his life."_


	12. Pilgrimmage

People piling into the bullhead's bay roused me from my sleep a mere 20 minutes after I had gone.

"Is that the kid?" asked the woman who let me in the bullhead. She pointed to my dazed self and addressed an average-or-so height man. He nodded and flicked his head inside.

"Get in now." Then, looking at me, he asked, "What's your name, kid?" I pulled a blank for a second, my dry eyes staring at him, before I answered him.

"Oh! Sorry, my name's Gainsboro Argent." He smirked and shook his head.

"Alright, don't freak out." The last person to jump in, aside from this man, was another, taller man. He had wild black hair and no sleeves, apparently.

"Count off, starting from the starboard." The woman, whom I assumed was the captain, commanded. I understood that starboard meant right, but not my classmates, who looked at each other confusedly. "From the right," she drawled in impatience.

My classmates - all of who were guys - then did as instructed and we had a head count of eight, as we were supposed to.

"Alright. Dust off in five. Get settled in. Frye, prep for takeoff." She squeezed her way into the cockpit from the tiny door and strapped in. The door shut unceremoniously.

After the five minutes of nothing, the low whirring of the engines increased to a steady but miniscule sound of even thunder. Then, through the bated breath and anticipation, I felt the whole craft slowly ascend like an elevator and accelerate.

A digital chime echoed in the hold of the bullhead followed by the voice of the pilot.

"This is Captain Carryl Raleigh of the Remnant Huntsman Transport Association speaking. We are en route for mission site Alpha-Niner at airspeed 430, heading 68. ETA will be 11 minutes. Out."

The incisive rundown of transport was incredibly quick and near inaudible, but entailed all the details I needed: we're landing in a little more than 10 minutes.

"Alright kids," that guy from earlier said. "I'm Bayard Bambino, a Beacon graduate and that's Lonan Delaney, trained by himself and recognized, officiated, and awarded by Beacon." Pulling a clipboard and a folder from his rucksack, he produced a slip of paper from the folder and attached it to the clipboard. "I'll be grading you guys on a great deal of criteria. Throughout the expedition we'll be mentoring and instructing you." His partner elaborated off of that.

"If you don't listen to us, your grades will be docked according to our jurisdiction. Don't piss us off."

"Along with that, we'll be grading you on your kills and end-of-day performance." He then rolled his eyes and finished writing our names, joking, "Don't die. You'll get a really bad grade if you do. Any questions?"

Some scrawny, spectacled guy with a massive unfolded axe raised his hand, asking shakily,

"What happens if we run into grimm that are too strong?" Lonan shook his head, his wild black hair slapping him lightly as he did.

"When it comes to grimm, violence is always the answer. If it isn't, you're not using enough," he listed, counting off of his fingers. "If it still isn't, then you aren't using it right. If it really isn't working, you're probably dead." I gulped.

Well our mission sites only detailed the three we discussed in class, so that really shouldn't be too bad. Still, it's not very funny to hear from a huntsman that if we can't kill a grimm, we'll just die.

"He's kidding. If the grimm involved is too much for any two of you to handle, then we'll step in." Bayard affirmed us with a nod and a grim frown, "But nonetheless, we will not be intervening if you encounter the weaker types, nor will we be held accountable for anything to happen to you from those kinds of grimm." It was at this point that my hands began to cold sweat and shake subtly. It felt like I had to swallow my breaths every time I breathed.

I'm pretty sure it was the altitude. I think.

Was I scared? Sure.

But you know what they say: a person can only be brave when they are scared.

Gods, my eyes burned. I kinda hoped that Dez didn't wake up so that she doesn't have to risk her life doing this.

No further dialogue was exchanged.

The chime from earlier again echoed through the bullhead's bay after some time.

"This is Captain Carryl Raleigh of the Remnant Huntsman Transport Association speaking. We are making our approach to mission site Alpha-Niner and will have wheels down in T-minus 30 seconds. Please stay seated as we descend."

Our time of reckoning approached us as we, in turn, approached the ground.

The forward momentum that pushed me into my seat slowly faded and an impulse of leisurely descent came from under me. After a few dozen seconds that felt like a few dozen hours, the bullhead's wheels hit the ground with a gentle thud.

The doors on the bullhead were mechanically released, exposing us to a sight that likely not a lot of people get to see.

Our bullhead was parked on a poorly maintained landing pad over a ocean cliff coast that the waves crashed against. The other door was facing a beaten dirt path in the direction of a brilliant green forest.

"We have arrived in mission site A9," said Lonan into his scroll. Bayard pointed out to the dirt path, silently telling us that we were supposed to go that way.

"Follow that path to the right. That's where our campsite is." He flicked a finger at me and said, "Gainsboro, you have armor. Take point. And all of you, be quiet. There's grimm around as we speak."

Ah shit. Armor working against me.

I didn't bite back for whatever reason I would have, but definitely didn't like it. I followed the path to the right for a ways before one of the other guys got irritated enough to ask,

"Where the hell is that campsite?"

He was answered with a single gunshot and a small nevermore falling in front of me.

Again, no further dialogue was exchanged for the next hour as we walked.

The bullhead flew away overhead. As it did, I was nudged in the shoulder by Bruno, who was the person immediately behind me.

"Next fork in the path, go left. Bayard said so." I peered over my shoulder to see the huntsman in question, who nodded.

The fork came earlier than expected, and so did a small clearing with a stream.

"We're here. Mark a tree." We did as instructed and I in particular marked one with low hanging branches so I can hang my backpack. "Who here doesn't know how to climb a tree?"

I'm glad I wasn't the only one who raised their hand.

Lonan gave us the necessary advice like, "Don't commit to a move unless you're sure it won't break," and "Test branches you plan to move to." And then he just pulled himself all the way up to the canopy in what looked like a few steps.

"You guys are sleeping in the trees you've marked. If all of you kill enough grimm, we might consider letting you sleep with a fire." Lonan dropped down after Bayard finished, creating an indentation in the ground. "Lonan and I'll make the watch schedule while we watch who kills more."

All of us were handed lengths of rope that we tied around the tree. I tied mine around the trunk. The angular, shoddy 'GA' in the bark parted the rope in half from top and bottom.

We were informed that we would be moving out for our first incursion into grimm territory in two hours. First, I had breakfast in the form of a few jerky bits and a handful of trail mix. Next, I prepped for battle.

I carefully thumbed rounds of ammo into Thunderstruck's long magazines, painstakingly ensuring that each cartridge was seated properly. As each of the magazines filled, I stowed them into the pouches on my thighs' cuisses.

The final round was slid into the final magazine. Thunderstruck was out on my lap in an instant with that last of mags diligently placed into the magwell. My hand closed mildly around the bolt handle. Smartly was the bolt charged back, allowing me to witness a round glide into the breach.

And then I did that again for fun. The round flew out perfectly and landed at Bruno's feet.

His eyebrow raised and his ears twitched. His gauntlets opened and shut, opened and shut, and he placed them smoothly on the ground next to him.

"Hey, Gainsboro? You dropped this." He held the ejected but otherwise unaltered round out to me and I took it from him.

"Just call me Gray, man." I refilled the one-down mag and offered my hand, which he took after a moment in a handshake. I should probably put that homework thing behind me.

"Hurry up, boys. We're moving out. If you can't kill grimm with it, leave it here." I unhooked my Atlas army knife and stuffed the tool into my pocket and got up. The two legitimate huntsmen waited patiently for all of us trainees.

I took point again and went back out to that fork in the road. This time, we took the right side and that took us to a path that led into a craggy hill. The tree presence died down and the surrounding area became notably less green. As we reached the hill, we were given an outlook from the top, granting us vantage over the several cavemouths.

"In each of those caverns is a family of beowulves. I want _every single one_ of those cleared out. Find one with your partner and take it out." Bayard sat down in the grass. "One pair at a time. Lonan will watch. Any volunteers?"

Nobody moved a muscle.

"Ey, Gainsboro. You and your partner go first." Bayard demanded.

Bruno glanced over at me.

"You wanna start out small?" Our eyes both locked on a small hole in the side of the hill. His uneasy foot fidgets indicated that he wanted to start small.

"Yeah. Let's get a good feel for it first." We marched down the hill with Lonan trailing us.

We approached the cavemouth, and slowed our movements down to a stealthy crawl. We could feel the presence in that cave. Claw-marked stones littered the entrance alongside the shattered pieces of a skeleton.

I made the executive decision to head in first.

The cave was dark and stuffy. I grabbed my scroll and turned on its torch, a luminous, white light.

The sound of heavy breathing called for me to keep my eyes open. The scroll in my right hand was handed to my left and Thunderstruck's rifle form unfolded in my right.

The safety was flicked off.

I kept my rifle held aloft, aiming it at anything that moved. Shadows and falling pebbles kelt drawing my attention as each breath, each sound caused my skin to shrink and my blood to thin.

Scrolls' torches are strong. Of that I am thankful. Otherwise, I would have gotten conpletely bodied by the beowulf that hurtled through the air.

"Get down!" I yelled to Bruno, the echo of the tunnel rattling around in my skull. He crouched low and cocked his claws.

I dropped to my face onto my elbow and the snarling grimm flew right over the both of us. It hit the ground really hard but sprung back uo to its legs.

Bruno swept his legs around and spun himself standing up. I gave an aura fueled push from my elbow and turned around smartly.

And standing hunched before us was the menacing mug of an abstract emotion given form. Its slouched posture did not express apathy or indifference, but the ghastly noises it produced reminded us that it was not friendly. The black of its jagged fur was only sparsely interspersed with deathly pale white bones on the ribcage and shoulders. Its face was encased with a skull of the same white with flashing red eyes. The beast _emanated_ hatred for mankind, and we were the subjects of its wrath.

Bruno went straight for it, closing on the grimm faster than it could track. His weapon closed around the left arm of the beowulf, paining it enough to almost yank the whole appendage off. Bruno's claws held steady.

"I'm opening fire!" I warned, planting Thunderstruck's sights on the struggling beowulf. A single, deafening shot tore into the spot Bruno had locked down, completely severing the grimm's clawed arm.

It swung its intact limb around ferally. My battle buddy dodged a telegraphed wide right swing and jumped up to the large werewolf grimm's back. Then, in a swift motion, he punched and clamped his claws through the grimm's nape, decapitating it.

The head of the grimm fell and the body - of which it was separated from - slumped. The light from my scroll shimmered as the grimm's body dissolved into smoke.

Bruno caught his breath.

"Holy shit." He looked to me. "I got one!"

Another snarl prompted me to lob my scroll to Bruno, who barely clumsily caught it.

I dropped to my knee and about faced, my supporting hand coming up to stabilize my rifle.

Two slightly smaller beowulves came running up. My firearm sung its song twice and two shots made their mark. While it hadn't killed them, a round to each of their chests slowed them to a figurative crawl. Thunderstruck was flipped around and extended into its lance form.

Bruno came bolting in and snagged the beowulf on the right, throwing it sprawling off to his side. I pulled my arm back in a textbook javelin throw and loosed it on the other, still reeling beowulf. The grimm caught the lance with its skull and promptly began disappearing into a cloud of black nothing.

Bruno pulled his claws out, tearing the grimm's clawed limbs off, kicking it into the cave wall. He reached back and thrust his fist forward, bisecting the grimm across its abdomen.

"Nice one," I complimented through ringing ears. Perhaps firing in this cave was a bad idea. Nonetheless, my body tingled in satisfaction.

So this is what it's like to kill something that tries to kill you? There was only one word I had in my mind:

 _Exhilarating._

Maybe I'm an adrenaline junkie. Whatever the case, _I wanted more._

"You good to go?" I asked Bruno rhetorically before I flourished Thunderstruck into its rifle form and racked the action. "I like this!"

I pushed deeper into the cave with my partner trailing just behind me. Fortunately, in my state of stupefaction, the cave only winded one way, funneling me and the faunus towards a larger room in the cave with no other way out. In that room was a den of even smaller beowulves. One hardly came to my height.

Bruno went to work following me beginning the engagement with a throw powered by the dangerous combination of aura and adrenaline.

Dangerous in the sense that it pinned the largest of those beowulves to the ground, the monster spurting out a black blood that vaporised instantly.

Despite me shifting my center of mass down, Thunderstruck pulled _me_ to _it._ I was losing this tug-of-war battle with my weapon and had to fend for myself against the beta of the pack without my weapon.

The 'wulf swiped at me and hit me pretty damn hard. Flung towards the disspating and dead grimm I killed, my only choice to not faceplant was grab the stuck lance. In doing so, the weapon was wrenched from the ground and the half dissolved grimm.

Bruno finished off the smallest two and charged straight for the one that struck me. He latched onto the grimm's skull but could not crush it. He swung around onto its backside and yanked himself rearward. His weapons were detached and he rolled back as the beowulf fell to the ground.

I took my cue to leap high and aimed my instrument for the beast. The grimm made a valiant attempt to survive amidst its death throes, but the force I exerted was too much for its large, savage arms to block. I broke straight through that and embedded the lance cleanly into the open maws. It was ended on the spot and all resistance efforts immediately ceased.

We had just cleared the cave.

And it felt _great_.

But the bruise on my back did not. Thankfully it was nothing more than that.

"So four for me and three for you?" Bruno questioned, retrieving his jaws from the evaporating remains of the last grimm.

"Yeah," I brushed off the question and pried my lance from the ground yet again. As we emerged from the cave, we were startled by Lonan.

"Good job boys." Bayard came up and asked him for our scores.

"Gainsboro: three kills, one minor injury. Bruno: four kills." Bayard created a score from that somehow, with each kill adding five points and my one injury deducting three. "You alright kid?"

"Yeah. It doesn't really hurt." That would likely be changing soon, as the effects of adrenaline were being replaced with sobriety.

So don't let the grimm hit you.

I wasn't planning on letting that happen, but now I'll be actively trying to prevent it.

The next quarter dozen of those beowulf dens were cleared by my classmates with one of the students nearly wiping all of the grimm in one singlehandedly. He has gotten a pretty clean record of seven beowulf kills and his partner only got one.

After that was all done and done, we took a short water break at our camp. A little fire dust to boil the water was all it took to purify it and make sure I don't unnaturally empty my guts.

I hardly had any time to drink it because it was still hot. I'll probably want to bring some ice dust next time too.

We moved out to an unbeaten path in this arboreal biome to a less dense section of it. The towering, emerald trees were gradually supplanted with stubby, low shrubs. Dead and dying branches littered the field and every now and again, you'd see a black feather poke out from beneath the detritus.

Nevermore loved transitional places like this: trees for shelter and low grasslands for hunting.

Sure enough, looking up revealed more than a few nevermore nests. A single fleeting thought of anger found its way up to me and I armed my rifle.

A pitch black raven with beady red eyes popped its head out from the snaggle that was its nest and I readied to fire.

"Wait, kid." Lonan put a hand on Thunderstruck's muzzle and delicately lowered it. "You shoot now and they all leave. And no one gets anymore kills for the day."

I begrudgingly flicked my safety switch and stood down.

So much for that.

-XXXXX-

Last week, we began this godsforsaken expedition. Today we finally get to leave.

I was totally underprepared for this trip. I expected my supplies of food to last longer than they did, but it was ultimately too little. Some of my classmates shared my anguish; we all had to hunt for our meals.

Jerky will never taste the same to me. Because I got tired of its taste.

Speaking of being tired... I am probably going to sleep an entire day away. We had to tie ourselves to our trees to sleep those long, chilling, damnable nights.

Normally, the risk of falling outweighs getting attacked by an animal by a large margin. With grimm around, on the other hand, the chances of you dying in your sleep while on the ground is multiplicatively higher than falling from a tree. That's even after you consider one of the larger nevermore swooping in on you.

But let me tell you: trees are not very comfortable to sleep on. And apparently, our kills were _below_ the quota Bayard said would get us to sleep with a fire. In reality, we _had_ gotten more than enough but he denied it regardless when the fourth night fell.

Our worst injury was inflicted upon Bruno. He had become just a tad overzealous in engaging an Alpha beowulf, of all things, and sustained a broken nose. Not to be disregarded when one considers that we have aura. Otherwise, from the few bruises I had accumulated, everyone got off comparatively unscathed.

Highest kill count was me. Beowulves and creeps clocked in at 43 and Nevermore - of all sizes - at a staggering 201. Trust me, everyone else is only a few behind.

As of the moment, we are all functioning on less than 3 hours of sleep.

In short, I brought too much ammo and not enough provisions. I'm so tired I feel like I could pass out. My clothes are dirty and my armor has lost its shine. My hair is flat down against my head, being pressed flat by sweat and oil. I can feel the barest growths of stubble around my face.

I'm ready to go home.

RT4742 touched down and all of us that were out in the field gathered around the craft, despite us being buffeted by the countless leaves and twigs kicked up by the hot air from the engines. Last minute checks and the bullhead opened to us.

I've never seen anyone board an aircraft so readily before.

I have also never fallen asleep so fast. There was only one thing I made out before knocking the fuck out.

"This is Captain Carryl Raleigh of the Remnant Hunstman Transport Association. Welcome aboard, juniors. We are headed back for Signal Academy, heading 257, airspeed 430. ETA is 12 minutes. Good job and goodnight."

-XXXXX-

I was out of the bullhead faster than anyone on it. Bayard and Lonan said that they'd submit our statistics to Signal's dean of academic excellence and that we should all head back to our rooms. We were dismissed from there and us eight students piled into the cramped elevator.

We shared stories of how stupid things would happen as we killed grimm, like how I nearly shot someone because I was deadset on killing a single nevermore. Luckily for him, he didn't get a face full of lead because my gun was empty.

From the bottom floor we all did our zombie walk of shame to our dorm rooms.

My keycard was out from my bag and into my hand in a flash in craving for the silky sheets of my bed. I basically just ignored the door to see Desiree sitting up in her mess of blankets.

Holy shit.

She looked just as bad as I felt. Her typically iron straight hair was frazzled and messy. Underneath her bright red eyes were unhealthy grayish purple bags of fatigue.

All of that fell away when she saw me. All of the characteristics of a half-dead girl disappeared.

Dez ran up to me and pulled me into a hug. She squeezed me so hard I heard a drumbeat of my joints popping. From there, the waterworks began.

"Oh my gods, Gray..." Her wavering voice bespoke the emotion my mere presence had over her while she begged me not to leave and pulled me down to the floor.

I sat with her latched onto me and spoke softly to calm her. "I'm here" I repeated to my shivering sister. "I'm not going anywhere."

I gave her time to calm down, during which I noted with perplexity her plate carrier torn asunder.

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked, stroking her head to soothe her. She sniffled and spoke in broken, near-incoherent sentences.

"We were fighting 'wulves, when..." She took a small breath and sobbed, "When- when ursai came out. My partner, Kermes, told me that she'd take care of it. She didn't even get halfway when... when..." My sister stopped for another second to gather her thoughts. "She got pounced by one of the beowulves and it just... it just ripped her apart. And- And..."

Her distress came to a head. She wasn't telling me the full story. I hadn't even processed her grip strength nearing bone-crushing proportions yet when she screamed,

"AND ALL I DID WAS WATCH!"

The situation couldn't have gotten worse. But it did. Through the blood draining from my face and my spine quaking under the pressure of the embrace, I blurted out,

"Jesus fucking Christ."


	13. Getting Shafted

"Jesus fucking Christ."

I bit back the expression as best I could, but only ended up with a sore tongue. A hot pang of agony pecked against my brain.

A severe case of sleep deprivation (I had been ignoring the auditory hallucinations ever since the fourth day on the extermination) was what I'll pin this mishap on.

Mishap is a generously lenient word for what just happened. _Fuck-up_ is closer to the magnitude of my... fuck-up.

And yet, despite my efforts to hide that I was once a Catholic - or even from another world - I have divulged a detail from my past life.

Hephaestus was something I could narrowly get away with. Of the four gifts granted to humanity, Hephaestus was the ancient god of the gift of creation. He also was evoked by way of fire of a forge. Thus, I was capable of making justification for this.

But not for the deity of another religion. One could say that Jesus's name evokes the thought of white for purity but...

Christianity doesn't exist in this world.

Desiree's miserable mewling ceased abruptly and her grip slackened. In my arms she remained motionless. The ten seconds that passed were filled with the most painful silence I have ever experienced in my life.

In those ten seconds, I contemplated my next course of action.

I wasn't ready to reveal who I was. Hell, I wasn't planning on ever doing that! I guess old habits die hard.

Desiree created some distance between us and pushed away from me just a bit.

"What?" her weak voice was filled with curiousity and... anticipation? "Gray, are you...?"

"Shit," I muttered. "Do you know who that is?" Likely not, but you never could know.

"Yes."

Oh _fuck_.

She was the other one. The Brothers told me.

My twin sister, of whom I had grown up with for the whole of my life, is from Earth.

But that would mean...

I bolted to my feet and pulled Thunderstruck. In naught but a second, my blade was against her throat.

"Wha-"

"They told me about you. That you would try to stop me from changing anything." Dez sat there defeated. She didn't try to resist.

"Gray, what are you talking about?"

"They warned me. They told me that you were going to stop me from changing what happens." My nostrils flared and my blood boiled. All this time my enemy was my sister.

Tears streamed down her face yet again. Her cracking voice pleaded with me.

"Please, Gray. Not you. Please." I gulped and my heart raced. Was I really about to do this?

"Why?" Was I going to kill my own flesh and blood? For what? _My own chance_ at a new life? End hers to extend mine? Is that how it is?

"Why what?"

"Why would you try to stop me?" I sternly interrogated. My hands shook uncontrollably. I couldn't do this. Not to my sister.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Gray, please. Tell me what you mean!" she screamed. She was more of a warrior than me. Even in the face of death, she fought for her survival. Even when racked with immense amounts of guilt and threatened by her own brother, she trusts me.

My knees were shaking and my face was cold. Each and every breath I took was unsatisfactory and every blink conjured watery anguish onto my eyes.

I dropped my lance with a clatter and fell to my knees. Thoroughly undeterred by my aggression, my sister approached me gently and wrapped me in her arms again.

"Do you know who- or what RWBY is?" I asked not even turning up to face her.

"No, I don't. Please, Gray... Tell me what that is."

That...

That changes everything!

If she didn't know what would happen and was simply living just to live, she couldn't know how her presence would impact the show!

I compiled what I remembered of the show and what the overall outcome would be of certain events. I mentally constructed a timeline.

And so I told her what she didn't know. How RWBY was a work of fiction and how we had been reincarnated mind and soul on Remnant. How RWBY was a team of four huntresses in training that would change the world for the better.

She took it better than expected. Not once did she question me or what was to happen. All of it seemed absolutely incredible to her and she was blown away by my words.

"I've been tasked with fixing this world, so to speak." Maybe I'm being too trusting, but I've already told her more than enough. "I can tell you more later. Get some rest." Guilt welled up in the front of my brain, tilting my face to the floor. "And... I'm sorry." I shuffled my way to the door. "I'm gonna check on Kermes."

A small hand wrapped itself around my forearm and a cheeky use of her semblance prevented me from pulling it away from her. Dez didn't want me to go. Her doubly haggard frown replaced whatever words she would've used to beg me to stay.

"I'll be back. Try to get some sleep." With that, she hesitantly released my hand.

The trip to the infirmary was brisk. Inside the room was the girl in question, beneath a myriad of heavy sheets and bandages and an oxygen mask.

Her slow, mechanical breathing and lethargic reaction to me pulling a seat up was the result of her being pain medicated six ways to Sunday. She was lucid, but only barely.

Mr. Birch placed a glass of water at her bedside with a smile and nod to me. I reciprocated the gesture.

"How is she?" I asked.

"She's got a few broken ribs, a broken clavicle, dislocated shoulders... Some of her tendons were torn on top of all of the gashes too. But she'll be good to go in a week's time." He checked each of those off with his index finger and scrolled down on her medical file. "She's on a lot of meds right now and I'm numbing her pain with my semblance, so she likely won't be able to answer anything you ask her. If you're just visiting, try not to talk too loud."

Kermes Diamant was the most qualified huntress in our grade level. She was all around nice and kind and had one if the brightest minds in our class. She did usually keep to herself though, so she only had a few acquaintances.

Auburn hair was buried beneath her head and her crimson eyes carefully traced my face. A thin grin graced her face when she saw me.

Kermes is someone I'd be confident I can call a friend. We were paired up for more than a few group projects and we ate lunch together a few times. She liked this one quiet spot at the edge of the Signal forest. One thing led to another and I just started relaxing with her there.

That was only three weeks ago when I started eating there. This young woman who I had just befriended had been almost mortally wounded.

This fucking planet.

I gave her hand a tender squeeze which she imperceptibly returned. I lingered like this until the controlled respiration and metronomic tone of the equipment lulled her to sleep in minutes.

I was just about to leave when Yang burst through the door.

"Where is she?!" she practically yelled. I gave her a quick shush and indicated where she was. She rushed to Kermes's side and sighed in relief. "Oh thank the gods."

"Wait. How do you know Kermes?" I hadn't ever seen Yang hang out with Kermes. Why was she so concerned?

"We're roommates and friends." Oh. That's how. "Could you give me a rundown, Doc?"

"She's got a broken clavicle-" Mr. Birch tried.

"Make it short, please." Mr. Birch chuckled and obliged.

"She'll be good in a week. She's out cold at the moment and loud noises will just make her pain worse, so pipe down, alright?" Yang acknowledged that with a hand wave. Then she stood up and dragged me out of the infirmary by my hood.

Resisting didn't work, if you were wondering.

Rounding the corner of the building out of sight of anyone, Yang pinned me against a wall.

"Gray, your sister was her partner." Yang growled, hauling me up to my feet. My gray, confused eyes met her burning, red, scalding eyes. "How could she let that happen?"

"I don't know! She might have frozen up!" Yang's gauntlets clicked back. "D-did you get taller?"

The blonde girl punched the wall immediately to my left, cratering it and throwing gray concrete dust into my already gray hair. Okay, not cool.

"Take it easy, Yang." I placed my hands on her shoulders and pulled her tense arms down. "Just breathe. In and out." She took my advice and the red in her eyes soothed to lilac. In her rage unwinding, she spat out to the ground,

"Arena level four. Tomorrow morning at nine. Tell her to be there." And then she power walked her angry ass away.

Holy fuckin' shit.

Well. I'll just take a shower and hit the sack then.

-XXXXX-

"Dez. Dee. Wake up."

She woke up with a start and uneven breathing.

I gave her a moment to snap out of it. And then I began my case.

"What happened to your armor?" Lifting the plate carrier yielded pulverised ceramic dust and tattered ballistic fibers falling out.

"It saved my life? What else does it look like?" She replied, getting up to take the armor piece from me. I let her have it but evenly pushed her to her bed. I had her sit and pulled the suspiciously pristine shirt on her off. "Hey, hey!"

Two claw shaped scars were drawn from her upper right back to her lower left back.

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I... didn't want to worry you." Her flushed face angled down and I ran my finger over the wounds. They didn't feel deep and were luckily superficial. Dez winced and I pulled back. "It still kinda hurts, you know."

"Sorry." I let a decent length of time pass before I mentioned Yang's summons. "So, Dez? Yang wants you to meet her on the fourth floor of the arena tower today before nine." Uneasiness polluted the room.

Both of us were out the dorm and on our way to the arena in moments. Desiree replaced the powdered remains of her old plate with a brand new one. The matte black rubber exterior of the new panel was easily visible through the three large gashes on the suit they were in.

Yang waited in the middle of the arena floor. We were right on time. Pointing at her, I warned my wary twin.

"Try to talk her down. You may be in for a fight either way though." She reached halfway into her next stride when she halted and spun around to me.

"What? Why?" She flicked her eyes between me and the blonde in the distance, quietly thumbing her sword's pommel. "Isn't she..."

"Kermes's roommate, yes." I leaned against my other leg and towards her ear. Whispering, I affirmed whose side I was on. "Don't blame yourself for what happened. I know for a fact that there were other huntsmen before that had the same happen to them." A relevant thought crossed my mind. "The outcome might have been even worse for them."

"But that means that worse could have happened to me and her!"

"But it didn't, right? Count your blessings."

"That isn't a fucking blessing, Gray! One of us could have died!" I huffed in frustration.

"Good thing that didn't happen, right?"

"But-"

"Shut up and talk to Yang already." I sat on one of the bleachered sides of this level of the arena. Our conversation barely echoed around the room due to its emptiness. Desiree's hesitation was just one sign of her fear of Yang. The rattling of her sword in its scabbard because of her shaking hand was another. "Go on. This needs to happen." Doling out tough love was not unfamiliar to me.

Yang initiated the conversation from a good distance away, giving Dez pause. I couldn't hear the first part of it, but eventually things escalated.

"You're a coward!" Yang yelled across the floor. The words hit Desiree like a truck, her actually getting knocked back by them. Her hands slowly crept up to her face and an electrifying spark shot up my spine. "You didn't do anything to help her!"

"I'm sorry!" And just like that, Yang assumed a fighting stance and shot off, rocketing towards my sister with a pair of shotgun blasts. I had to catch myself from equipping Thunderstruck out of habit; after all, gunshots typically started fights I got into.

Desiree pulled herself down below Yang's monstrous attack and weaved around her back. The blonder of the two spun around with a wicked hook that would have clean clocked any normal person.

Desiree pushed her back leg out and applied her semblance to the ground, skating backwards away from Yang. Yang being who she is, pursued with more of her violent jabs before she caught on that she wouldn't catch onto Dez.

Yang threw her fists down in indignation as Dez, still sliding around with eloquence, continued to apologize. The move wasn't the beginning of a tantrum - or rather it was but concealed by the fact that the spent shells in her golden gauntlets sprung out. She grabbed a long rack of ammunition from her back pockets, flung them high into the air, and slammed her wrists into them. The rows of firepower conformed to their slots on the gauntlets.

Yang stuck her left foot forward and held her left arm parallel to the leg. In a slick motion, she pulled her right arm over her left and in line with her torso, the bracelets that adorned her forearms chambering the shells with magnificent grace.

A quick one-two sent two high-velocity explosive slugs at her moving target. Thoroughly unprepared, my sister took both to the stomach and hit the wall with no small amount of force.

I calmly breathed to myself and squeezed my hand. As much as this needed to happen, I couldn't just _watch_ as my little sister got beaten. At the same time, this is something that needed to happen.

Right?

Yang closed on the dazed Desiree with another flying punch. Her senses came back at the right time and she slid around Yang's back again.

Expecting the hook, Dez dropped lower. Instead, she was greeted with a roundhouse and a mule kick, sending her into the center of the arena. Groggily, she got to her wobbling feet.

Yang walked up to her and pushed her down. Okay, they need to stop now.

I leaped over the lower set of seats and sprinted full force to the two before something drastic would happen.

"Alright, that's enough." My feet ground against the floor as I placed myself between the girls. Gloved hands on my hips, I discreetly took my weapon off of safe.

"Yang..." Desiree coughed, wincing as she held her side. "I'm sorry-"

"Why are you apologizing?" Yang quipped. The sentence put me off. It sounded familiar... "You're too busy apologizing that you didn't tell me _why_ you should be sorry." Dez pulled herself up with the aid of my arm, which she supported herself on.

"I'm sorry-"

"Oh my gods!" Yang yelled, planting her hands on her head and pacing around. "Quit apologizing and tell me what the hell happened!" Even I shrunk an inch at her anger.

"I just... I just... couldn't move! I know it sounds stupid-" Desiree attempted.

"It's not stupid."

"What?" I asked, unsure of what she was getting at.

"It's not stupid." Yang closed her weapon up and sat down. "My uncle told me."

I then remembered a small anecdote of her nearly getting killed. She recounted the events.

"It was a long time ago. My mother - or rather my stepmother died on a mission. It broke my dad." Yang began, playing with her hair. "He told me that Summer wasn't really my mom and that mine... Mine ran away. In the middle of the night I took my little sister with me in a wagon to look for my mom." She smiled a grim smile. "I kept walking, further and further into the forest. Rven though I was tired and Ruby fell asleep in the wagon, I kept going. Eventually, a few grimm showed up and I had just about given up. I was too tired to move my legs and too scared to scream." Yang gulped down her fear and rubbed the goosebumps she had just acquired.

"I just... Stood there. Terrified. I was going to die and because I brought my sister with me, I would have gotten her killed too." I dared not to interrupt her. Her knuckles turned white and water built up in her eyes. Despite this, she sniffled and maintained her composure. "My Uncle Qrow came just in time and saved us, but I learned my lesson. I can't let others be hurt by my actions. So I chose to become a huntress."

"Yang, I-" Desiree got cut off by Yang standing up and pulling her in.

"Don't say anything anymore. I'll never forgive you for this." Yang pushed Dez to an arms length away and looked her straight in the eyes. "And I'll expect you to act next time. I know it's asking for much from someone I just punched, but can we still be friends?" The two of them broke out into steadily increasing laughter that morphed into cry-laughing as I waited off to the side.

That's... nice. This would be the kinda thing that people get warm and fuzzy over.

So. Yang's anger over one of her friends is a start. When Ruby begins next year, Yang's going to adopt that mama bear instinct more prominently.

-XXXXX-

Dez had unhooked her armor finally. After her incident with Yang and the subsequent friendship they made, they decided that the first thing to do was to spar.

Predictable, since they had similarly fiery personalities. Pun on and off on that one.

"Hey, G?" Dee asked, stowing her torn armor on a hanger in her closet. "Thanks for... well pushing me out there."

"Yep." Now is the moment I had been waiting for. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Uhh, okay." She sat on her bed and nursed a sore shoulder from one of her altercations with Yang.

"I don't want you to stop calling me that. Gray, Junior, G, or even Gainsboro." I hung my head. No matter how I approached this, the conversation will be sober. "We are from another world to save this one. If what you say about not knowing a thing about RWBY is true, let me sum it up for you: we have a lot to do." Peering up to her curious eyes, I gave her a choice. "Assuming of course, you'll help me?"

Without even a moment of hesitation, she agreed.

"Yes."

I let out a breath that I didn't even know I was holding and felt as if the figurative weight on my shoulders was lifted like a literal weight.

"First off, my real name is... my real name is..." I could not for the life of me announce my real name. It wasn't as if I had forgotten it. "I was thr son of... Fuck!" My stuttering was ended momentarily by a sharp, searing pain in my head which forced me down to my knees. Loose droplets of blood clung to my lip from my nose.

I had been cursed to not remember the names of my past life. The gods had damned my life on earth.

"What the hell happened to you?" I held my hand up and warned Desiree.

"Don't mention a name from back then." I wiped the blood, it smearing across my mouth, and grabbed her shoulders. If I could remember Nathan Lorry, how come I couldn't remember-

I briefly lost vision in one of my eyes and my tongue had been scored. Maybe certain names have a certain amount of import? Either way, I am in a not-dubious pain.

"Gray, your eye is bleeding!" I blinked the red in my eye away and wiped the reddened tears off, leaving a streak of cold moisture across my sleeve. A look in a mirror showed me that I had indeed suffered a... subconjunctive something? I remember a game where that was a symptom.

"Okay, we aren't going to bring this up again." My tongue stung with every word and strangely enough, aura wasn't helping. "Anyways, get more rest. We'll start tomorrow." She agreed with me and we both got into our respective beds.

Pain kept me from resolving the day immediately. To my luck, I had also been asked a question.

"So when you left last year's winter break... That was for what?"

"The White Fang. I'm monitoring their movements for one specific individual among them." I curtly answered and hinted at my desire to sleep with, "Good night."

"It's 4 in the afternoon."

"Good afternoon then."

And I was promptly whisked away from consciousness.

-XXXXX-

"So what exactly are we doing today?" Desiree wondered aloud, having dried her hair out. She stared blankly at the sword she had just grasped hold off, silently contemplating about something somewhere on the edgeless blade. Shaking her head, she frowned and cocked her hips to the side. "You need to start talking."

"Well first off, we need to plan. The thing is, we're too early and everything is so random that planning is out of the question at the moment." Checking my wallet to see if I had a decent amount of lien, I shot Hei Xiong a text asking if I could meet up. "Today, we're finding a way to hide our faces."

Amazingly, Hei replied. No words, just a location.

"What the hell for?" Dez was losing her patience as I refused to answer her questions.

"You never know. We might have to do... less than reputable things." Merely saying that sentence made my spine shiver in anticipation. Both sets of my parents made it abundantly clear that crime is something they'd never tolerate. Desiree's reaction wasn't unwarranted, then.

"What?!" She damn near lost it at that, throwing her weapon down. "You _cannot_ be serious."

And then we went off on each other. I brought up repeatedly that this for sure would work. She countered it with a fairly good point.

That can't be the _only_ way, right?

For that, I had no counter. Until I remembered that there was a criminal element in certain places and times. Bringing that up and the idea that subterfuge would be a surefire way to gain an undeniable advantage against what or whoever we face off with convinced her. However, she proposed a compromise.

She put forward the proposition that we will only use any criminal connections we make if it is necessary to leverage ourselves.

I told her to keep in mind that circumstances change all the time and that the current details of our concurrent agreement must be flexible and will definitely be mutable, as unforeseen variables leading to unforeseen consequences are guaranteed in our line of work.

We shook on it and took a cab to the other side of the bridge. We pulled up on the curb to an unassuming, shorter-than-average building. The muted gray concrete and inconspicuous black paint hid the construct's inside quite well and the normal outside doors concealed the inside enough that the taller, sliding doors that adjoined the club and the lobby surprised me.

Cautiously walking inside with my sister trailing me, I took a look around. Large glass pillars cornered an out of place but fashionable disco ball on the dance floor. The tiled dance floors were obviously lights, but were unilluminated. A number of black leather booths lined the left and right and the bar stood across the dance floor from the door. Above and a little off from the bar was the DJ's box, though it was more of a balcony than an actual stage or box.

Sitting at the bar were a pair of twins I had seen before and behind the bar itself was the man I was looking for. I made to approach the bar, but unceremoniously stopped my advance as I heard a nonzero quantity of firearms being charged and aimed in my direction.

Desiree panicked and drew her sword and I sighed.

"Calm down. They're not going to shoot us."

"They're _aiming_ at us! What the hell do you think comes next?!" Desiree's machine pistol flicked to and fro target to target. "What the hell are you waiting for?!"

I gotta admit: it is _not_ fun to be staring down gun barrels from one direction, much less all of the directions.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen that is no way to greet one of my clients!" One by one, all of the red-lense shaded bouncers took their sights off of us with Dez doing the same a little after. "Let's go to the bar." A quick walk there earned us no more ready weapons. "Sit."

Propping myself up onto one of stools, I was instantaneously surrounded by the twins on either side of me. I couldn't exactly see her, but I know for a fact that Desiree took a step back in disbelief. Instead, she just sat off past Melanie to my right.

"Before we begin, do you want a drink?" I blinked lamely at his question. Is that even legal?

Short answer: yes.

"But I'm 15?" I remarked.

"You're a huntsman, right? Law allows it, but it isn't explicitly stated. Plus, aura burns some of it out anyway." Hei- _Junior_ answered. The twins giggled and Dez sat there just absolutely confused.

"Huh. That's pretty cool." I opened up the archive of drinks I wanted to try when I got old enough to and kept pulling up the same drink. "Can I try a strawberry sunrise?" And then I asked, "Do I have to pay for this?" Junior shook his head with a slight grin. The twins giggled to themselves again.

"Depends on how our conversation goes." That must be part of his scam. After pouring what looked like an orange juice into a shot glass that was sickeningly red with a few ice cubes, he slid the glass onto the table in front of me. "Here."

I lifted the drink up. It was probably called a sunrise because of the way the orange part and the red part gradiented. I took a miniscule sip to test it but that yielded no flavor. So, in typical dumbass fashion, I slammed the drink down.

It was menacingly saccharine and didn't feel like a liquid at all. I was right about orange juice, but the strawberry flavor in the drink was accompanied by another, unfamiliar one that I identified as ethanol.

Due to the syrupy sweet nature of the drink, my throat felt scratchy and dry and I began to cough. Junior and the twins laughed and Dez just sat there concerned more than anything.

After that fit of coughing, I was able to clear my throat.

"Okay, a water would really help right now." A soothing gulp of water later, I figured that Dez needed to be known too. Turning to the bartender and keeping the Malachites in mind, I introduced her. "This is my twin sister Desiree." Now with her in mind, I introduced the other three people here with us. "This is Hei Xiong, also known as Junior. These two are-"

"Melanie-"

"And Miltia-"

"Malachite." I finished alongside them. Thoroughly nonplussed, Desiree did nothing.

A moment of quiet passed as I finished off my glass of water. Dez got a water too but didn't make any moves to drink it.

"Alright. What do you want to know?" Junior asked. I hummed in thought and rhetorically. I already knew what I wanted to know, but wording it was a different animal altogether. Sliding over a few cards of lien, I asked,

"Let's say... I wanted to hide my face. A few rounds wouldn't compromise my anonymity. Know where I can get one like that?" Junior whipped out his scroll and fiddled with it. After a nice while of the twins staring across each other to me and Dez actually drinking some water, Junior planted his scroll in front of me.

"I know a masquerade mask maker. Any color, any occasion." Inputting the map point and details onto my scroll was easier done than said and I had one last request.

"Would you be willing to accept more customers? Think of it as a gesture of loyalty." The man raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses. Leaning back, he poured himself a drink and gulped it all down.

"I dunno what kind of person you got in mind, but at this point, any business is good business." He hooked his shades onto his shirt and groaned. "If you think we can make this mutual, you gotta do some more for me before things start swinging back to you, kid."

I held my hand out.

"You got yourself a deal." Junior grabbed my hand and made a show out of squeezing it. Was it a test? One could guess. I crushed his hand in turn anyway. "Let me know if you got a job for me."

Dez watched the entire exchange go down. Upon my insistence to agree to the same terms, Desiree signed off a similar deal with Junior with a stipulation being that jobs would either be me and her or just me.

And thus we made our merry way to the mask maker. A few blocks down and in an alley was a back access cellar. Getting into the dusty cellar was easy. Knocking on his door? Also easy.

Getting in? Slightly harder. I had to drop a couple more lien cards just to be let in after I had told them that I knew Junior.

The man at the door led us further down a set of stairs where a woman was sat down in a workshop slaving away at a literal masquerade mask.

I really hope he was being figurative. I approached the woman and made to speak but was shushed as she painted on the littlest line on her current mask. Instead, she pointed at a stack of index cards that had empty, handwritten specification fields.

I grabbed a pen and got to work describing the mask I wanted.

In coverage, I put full-face. In style, I put 'Utilitarian' which was code for bullet-resistant as the other options I had would've gotten me an actual masque. For color, I printed black.

Special requests: discreet.

I filled out two forms exactly like that and handed the second to Desiree who was still reeling from my interactions with the club personnel.

I slid my slip to the lady who went over it carefully. She looked up to me with bright pink eyes and stood up. Motioning me over to a changing room, she took rather impersonal measurements of my head. Doing the same to Dez, she filled out the order forms and I slapped down almost the rest of my lien. Sufficient payment was our last worry and soon we were given the bland black masks and whisked out of the building.

Dez and I took a cab back to Signal. The masks were hidden in her purse and the day went pretty casually from there.

So I have laid the groundwork for Yang to visit the club. All I- _we_ need to do now is time her investigation and convince her to check out... _alternative_ sources.


	14. No Cold Shoulders

Between classes and grimm exterms, life at Signal has been anything but boring.

That's what I told the first year that joined Mr. Sonnati's javelineering class. He's a smart kid, if a little quiet. His name's Dalim Balaustine.

I also happened to learn more about Mr. Sonnati when his father, Ali Sonnati visited him on school grounds. Bastani's nickname is Baba.

Yeah, I didn't miss the allusion. Ali and Baba? Ha ha ha...

Bastani's elder brother, Cassim, was murdered when they were young. A roving band of bandits passed through their old Vacuo town, rounding up money and other plunder. Cassim tried to steal some of it back but was publicly executed with his own woodcutting axe.

Thus, Bastani vowed to become a huntsman and exact vengeance. He did, and met his would-be wife, Morgana, who also happened to have a vendetta with them. Bastani was trained at Shade Academy.

Long story short, they poured copious amounts of fire dust on them, set it on fire, and then the gang leader was stabbed straight through the heart by Morgana with a dagger.

They tied the knot and then Mr. Sonnati took up a job as a weapon instructor at Signal. The rest is history.

He only told us all this after Dalim asked us all why we became hunstmen/huntresses. It's almost a taboo to do so, since everyone has their reasons but no one really wants to tell anyone else. It's also a courtesy because that's kind of the best way to start a conversation among huntsmen/huntresses, so it lies in this awkward middle ground of don't ask, only tell.

As you can tell, there aren't a lot of social procedures that meet those criteria.

The months passed by much quicker than I perceived and things got much easier to do.

The recovery period given to students returning after an exterm is officially only a few days. However, most teachers of those students reduce work assigned for the week after.

It _really_ helped. Kermes made a full recovery plus scars and had literally no trouble doing the work days after it was due.

After that, it was business as usual. Then the next extermination came. Due to a mixture of all of us being better trained and informed from last time, this extermination was a cake walk.

Desiree hid her distress well but I've known her for all of my second life now, so she's not as good as she thinks she is.

The huntsmen assigned to us are permanent for our term at Signal. Lonan and Bayard are hardasses, but they were nicer this time by providing us tips and tricks.

Keeping the maw of a beowulf open is _so_ _much_ easier than it looks. The force they apply is strong, but you can literally wrap your arm in an extra shirt or two and they are left particularly vulnerable. Claws are sharp, so get inside of their zone and they're left defenseless.

Nevermore always fly in a set pattern. They fly away to "flee" but then they come back and take a cheap swoop. Repeat. They also always fly diagonally up and to the side to circle their prey, meaning they stay close to it. If you have a gun, bringing down nevermore is dubious at worst.

Creeps are the easiest. They charge at you and that's it. If you strafe, you win.

After that, every extermination we went on was more like a week's worth of chores followed by almost two weeks of free time.

I haven't seen Katrina around, but maybe - just maybe - I will over the summer break.

Chances of that happening are next to nil though. Every year for eight years now, the head of the SDC invites all of his key personnel and their families to high-profile, high-expenditure festivities in Atlas. Since Dad is the regional director for Vale now, he's - and we've - been invited to visit Atlas for a while.

This is really cool! I'm really excited to see the rest of Remnant and this will be a nice change of pace. Another plus side is that Weiss will be singing at the start of the event's gala.

Amazing. All of this. I can't believe how lucky I am.

Desiree got her armor fixed and Kermes forgave her, though it did take a while if I had to be honest.

Oh, and this will be my first time on a full-size airship!

This is all just so grand.

-XXXXX-

Mom and Dad are happy to show us Atlas. Cinna came to join us and she hasn't ever been to Atlas.

What's the big deal? I'm sure that Atlas is just as scenic a place as any new location, really.

So, airplane flying is generally a bad experience. Crammed into a single seat that, if not first class, can't recline far enough so that you can sleep? Painful.

A flight so long that you _could_ sleep and have it _not_ over? Exasperating.

Factor in that there are other people you'd be seated next to who may or may not annoy you awake when you sleep? Infuriating.

Airship flight? Incredible. Absolutely amazing. It puts planes to shame by a huge margin.

Consider this: Airships are more efficient(technically speaking), carry more passengers and cargo, have more than five times the space for a single person, have _a cafeteria and restaurant_ , AND a large common area?

That's just for worker-class.

My family got luxury-class. Meaning we have what equates to a hotel room and room service alongside communication services. We each have our own beds, though us children have a separate room from our parental relatives.

Granted, airships are suitably slow. Not sluggish, but obviously not speedy. It'll take us a week or so to get to our destination.

There are also the dangers of grimm attacks which are dissuaded with an armament suite that can dispel aviary threats. This is further enforced by a contigent of professional huntsmen that have been contracted by the airline. _Generous_ security.

One might see it as paranoid.

I, for one, welcome it all.

-XXXXX-

After a decently lengthy airship trip, we are to arrive at Atlas in just a few hours. On the upper, open air level of the floating hotel, Dez and I looked around to our frosty, coldened surroundings.

The frigid air that pushed past us bit lightly into my lungs with every breath. Gentle, transparent snowflakes had fell onto the ground around us, mounding into small white humps.

Clutching the guard railing, my dry hands stuck to the icy metal with a indiscernible heat fortified by my aura. Silver clouds hung above the ship, casting most of their shadows onto us.

I had been up here for a good amount of time already. Meditation is a large part of aura training and harsh environments provide the greatest challenge. My twin was sent up to check on me by my elder sister and she took the opportunity to admire the vista.

The howling winds drowned out most sounds with a familiarly fatal white noise. Even my thoughts, as rare as they were in my reflective state were hardly clear.

Aura has strange effects on a person's mental state. It is an obvious power that one can have, but it does not let it self be exalted. It has a calming presence that, if applied properly, can lead to great clarity.

Perhaps that is how Ms. Skylar was able to learn advanced techniques.

Which is something that I want to look into.

She can see you while her eyes are _closed_. Seeing without eyes would be an incredible boon to more than just combat.

But I reckoned I was out here for long enough.

Comedic timing beseeched me to look beyond the airship. Lo and behold, Atlas was in view.

"It's floating." I deadpanned the line out loud for nobody specific. Dez then joined me at the bow of the airship.

"What is... Oh. Wow."

Wow indeed.

Secured by a number of pylons and held aloft by a enormous gravity dust well generator was the Atlas kingdom's capital, Atlas.

The surrounding mountainous regions that flanked ground zero of the city was dwarfed completely by the distance the city stood - or rather levitated at.

Countless lights emitted a warm glow in an otherwise cold city. They shone off of the buildings with a pale blue gleam that sparkled at every spire, every peak of every building.

There was only one word for it: dazzling.

Wow indeed.

Dez and I went to our room with our family. We'd be landing soon.

-XXXXX-

"Yeah, you could see it over and over again and you'd still be amazed," Mom smiled at how we were surprised over Atlas fucking floating.

Dad concurred and one could not miss him inwardly laughing.

We would have gotten out and gathered our belongings but a young woman with green eyes and pale yellow hair wearing a formal SDC uniform informed us that the SDC will take our baggage to our room. She was to be our chauffeur to a hotel called "The Up Above by the SDC."

Classy and pretentious, the five-star, marble-laiden hotel was placed within walking distance from the Schnee Manor. Grandiose was the entrance as were the rooms and even just the elevator. The room arrangements here were quite similar to the ones on the airship.

Honestly, it made me sick.

Well, as much as I would have protested such flagrant and extravagant waste of lien, it _was_ to my benefit.

I didn't stop worrying about my weapon. That is until it was delivered to Cin's, Dez's, and my room. Enclosed in a sturdy plastic guncase and locked with a heavy-duty padlock, Thunderstruck was not going anywhere. Unfortunately, it wasn't going with me either. Junior huntsman license or not, you would not be allowed into the venue with a visible weapon.

The following morning was probably the slowest I had ever taken one. Desiree of all people was up early applying vast amounts of makeup with Cin in their dresses for the opening.

Cinna wore a gentle red turtleneck dress that reached her knees with a mahogany peacoat over it. She donned black high platform heels with stockings and silk gloves would finish her prissy outfit. Wavy hair was the product of her not quite curling it all the way. Her subdued red eyes were emphasized by mascara and oddly enough, olive green eyeshadow.

Oh yeah. Gloves are protocol for this event. My modified rubber combats wouldn't count.

Dez wore a longer dress than Cin that was also a darker red. Without a coat, she wore long, dark gray, mid-bicep suede gloves. Black pumps were used by her to... mixed results. Her hair had been braided and bound into a bun and her bright red orbs had also been brought out by mascara and a more sensible pale red eyeshadow.

They looked quite beautiful and I have no doubt that they'd be approached by the men attending.

My outfit for the day. consisted of a two-piece, dark gray, _custom-tailored_ suit. Dad and I's measurements were taken the day before. Mine was above a dark maroon dress shirt with a black tie and charcoal oxfords which rounded it out.

Oxfords relates to the shoe and shoe exclusively. It checks out, but I'm always skeptical about it.

Dad's suit was a mirror of mine (actually vice versa) except for the shirt, which was a clean white with a red tie.

Both of us wore simple white cotton gloves.

Mom's dress was sinched around her waist with a gray ribbon and ended above her ankles. A sleeveless faux-fur coat was supplemented with long gloves like Dez's. She also wore the same kind of shoes as Cin, but had a neat, little, red pillbox hat on her head.

Dressed the part for a ball, we were driven by Dad an unnecessary length to the venue.

Large, brilliant archways enveloped the hall and a pair of concierges received invitations from the lines of prospective partygoers.

It was here that I first witnessed an automaton.

Two pairs of Atlesian Knight AK-130s stood at either side of the entrance hall, unmoving and unassuming behind concealing metal and glass pods. The tall metal frames stood slouched at their posts, a few black streaks seemingly out of place.

We were ushered by one of the concierges to the theater for Weiss's performance. The booth he manned was quickly filled in by another person.

Our seats weren't front-row. They were top shelf.

The theater had an atmosphere of age and experience. In it's well maintained state, it held an air of refinement and impossible expectation, as if the walls themselves judged you. On opposite sides of the walls hung two viewing balconies with few chairs, though said chairs were ostentatiously expensive. The floor was packed full of velvet seats and felt carpet. To the back was the higher seating, giving us a distant yet emphatic view of the stage.

If Weiss was to look anywhere, it would be up here.

It was only a minute when seating became exponentially hectic on the floor. The reserved seating above was spared from the droves of people lining in to attend, with only three other families in our area.

They, of course, were the families of the other kingdom's branch's regional directors. The children were especially snooty and warranted no respectful attention, much like their elitist parents.

My dad told me that they politicked into their position, reducing the number of promotable candidates until it was just them. They each had different methods but the same goal.

It made Mom particularly angry, since she recalled the days seeing Dad supervise and maintain the refinery every day until he could advance. He rose through merit. They did not. They despised him for it.

The lights in the theater dimmed dramatically and opening remarks were addressed by Jacques Schnee himself.

"Good evening distinguished personnel, staff, and honored guests. I, Jacques Schnee, President of the Schnee Dust company would like to formally welcome you to the Schnee Manor in celebration of the Schnee Dust Company charity works." His cordial voice could have fooled anyone and it probably did. Even from here I could see his lips tug down into a molecular frown. "It is with great pleasure that I address the charities and their benefactors who I am honored to contribute to."

He listed some of the charities that the SDC supposedly supported and their objectives. Not one of them pertained to faunus.

"Once again, I thank you for your help in contributing the resources required to those in need. A dinner will follow shortly after this presentation for those invited. Without further ado, please welcome the wonderful Weiss Schnee."

The red curtains swung open to reveal Weiss standing regally center stage. The lights shifted their attention to her, as did all else.

Without even so much as blinking at the blinding lights or flinching at all of the face turning to her simultaneously, she began singing.

This song wasn't "Mirror, Mirror."

I don't remember the curtains being red.

The slow, somber notes of the accompaniment preluded Weiss's role. Solemnly, she rose her voice, the quiet echoing of lyrics gradually giving rise to an imperial symphony of bewitching tones. The softness in her melody and flawless tempo did not change.

For as long as the song went on, all were enthralled. No one dared say a word because the perfection of the music felt so real, so physical, and so fragile that the slightest noise would shatter it all.

Mystification isn't infinite, however. With a grand final note that continued for far longer than I cared to count, Weiss gave a curtsey and the curtains closed upon her form. The second after and the theater was packed to the brim with deafening applause.

I found myself clapping too. My hands haven't felt this numb since I last sparred with Gwen.

Eventually, those in the theater dispersed and made way to the banquet hall. As did my family.

Well we would have. A concierge singled us out and led us to a different room where those other three families were. Two long tables waited, separated from each other to opposite sides of the room.

The one closest to the bar in this honestly small room was for Mr. Schnee and the adults. The one at the other way end of the room was for those in their company: the children.

Cin, Dez, and I sat close together and meals were served to us individually. The food was good, but hard to enjoy with spoiled, arrogant kids complaining about every single thing on their plate. "Oh the garnish isn't even," or "The meat is too thinly sliced."

Shut the fuck up and eat your food.

Dez must have sensed I was pretry pissed at them. She placed a hand on my arm and shook her head.

I ate the meager portion of food silently, contemplating whether or not I should malform the silver fork in my hand.

Those kids also ridiculed me. Apparently there's a difference between the three sets of silverware? How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Sure, one's smaller, but why can't I eat my meal with a "dessert fork?"

It's just a fork! There's three forks here!

I hardly even touched my dessert when I decided enough was enough. I didn't make a scene out of it, but I left the room to clear my head.

The room connected to a hallway which led to the banquet hall. Maybe I should see how things there are.

Less formal? Thank the gods. Perhaps I'll eat here? On second thought, no. I should be in somebody's company if I do.

I'll just take a walk around, cool off...

Minding my own business allowed me to think that others would mind theirs. I was wrong.

Conversations came to a screeching halt as people came into view. People stopped in their tracks as I passed them by. I made no eye contact with anyone but the blue carpeted floor and yet I could still feel their disapproving looks. My pace quickened until I was alone in the middle of a long, intricately adorned hallway lined with oil paintings and chiseled stone busts. Vases interspersed the heads with colorful patterns that for some reason always included a white and a blue.

Against the left side of this corridor was a great number of arched windows that dwarfed me. To their face were a plethora of doors without any defining characteristics aside from being wooden and painted white.

I did not want to invade privacy, so instead I opted to take a doorless partition with a winding set of stairs. They weren't fancy by any means, but they weren't completely practically made. The air in this small room grew drastically colder and forced me to cover my hands.

At the top of this spiral was a single, plain metal door. I inched it open and was shot immediately by a chill breeze slipping through the crack. A little bit more and the door flung open, catching more of the wind that it opened itself and strained its hinges.

And out before me was the open air balcony similar in form to the one on the airship, but with more decor. On one side were pruned evergreen hedges that were likely artificial and opposite from there was a small, round table with two frosted iron chairs. Across from me and the swinging door was this deck's railing.

I wasn't alone up here. Weiss was up here too.

By the look of it, I had scared her when the door slammed itself open.

I made to turn around and go away, but was stopped by her icy tone.

"Stop!" The word rang through my head and echoed down the staircase I was facing. A gust of water-freezing air blew by at just the right moment to seem as though her voice was the unpleasant weather clawing at the back of my head.

I did as so requested - or in this case, demanded - and cautiously turned around.

"Talk with me." What.

"I'm sorry?"

"I want you to talk with me." I mean sure, why not?

I did my own thing and grabbed both of the metal chairs and slid one down behind her easily. Her white dress and equally white hair flew around in the wind and the collar of her coat threatened to unfold itself.

Wait, was it always folded down? And I thought her ponytail was to her right and not in the middle...

I didn't see her take a seat, but she did with such grace that I didn't even hear the chair move. Her back remained flat and was not leaned against the chair. She puffed her chest out and kept her shoulders up. She dared not even cross her legs, nor did she turn her wistful gaze away from the courtyard and entrance hall where one could see eventgoers coming and going.

Such a pristine form looked so fragile.

"How are the festivities?" she asked in a mechanical and articulated manner. I hesitated for a moment and thought about my answer.

"They're quite alright. I wish that it weren't so formal, but-"

"I know that that is not how you usually speak." Just like that, she took the wind out of my fake silk sails. "I know your father. He is unrestrained and uncouth in his interactions with the other directors. My father has said as much." The wind blew across my face. My eyes were ready to shrivel up. "Yet despite his mannerisms, he's much more capable than them and even manages to entertain my father with his, quite frankly, brutal honesty."

Where was she going with this?

"Tell me... Desiree, is it? How is the gala?" Oh, she doesn't really know my name.

"No. My name is Gainsboro." Her face, pale by either the temperature or as her default appearance, seemed to grow even paler than before.

"Oh! I'm sorry, please forgive-" For once she looked towards me.

"Nah, don't apologize." I shook my head with a cocky smirk. "I'm actually quite flattered that someone confused the two of us for once."

"But that was my error. How could I be so careless?" Her distant and genteel mask began to tear at the seams.

"It's alright." I shushed her protest one more time before I continued. "So. You don't want me to be as... formal with you?"

"In a sense. How do you often speak with your father?"

I hummed. I don't really know how to explain it, but...

"I'm not sure how to explain it, but we sort of just... understand each other."

"How? In what form?" She pressed.

"Well both of us are nonvocal compared to my mother and my sisters. But it works out."

"Hmm." Weiss appeared displeased with my explanation and turned back to the view below. "It's not as though you are ambiguous with each other, though?"

"Like in what sense?"

"You only say what needs to be said? There aren't any hidden meanings behind something?" Instead of displeased, she appeared anticipating. Desiring.

Wishing.

"Well there are those sometimes. It's mostly just filling in the blanks and never anything political or mind gamey." That's the answer she was looking for. The smile that graced her face made me feel like I was doing something right. "You look like you want to be down there."

She pretended not to hear me as the smile faded into an even line.

Wow, okay. Looks like we're doing this the hard way.

"Let's go." I said, stepping out of the chair I had warmed. Surprised, Weiss stared at me.

"What?" Her eyes widened and she tensed up.

"Let's go." I offered my hand to her and she tentatively accepted it.

"To where?"

"To the party."

"But my father told me to stay up here or in my room!"

"Okay, but he's down there enjoying the party too. Why can't you?"

"He even told Whitley to stay!" She was looking for excuses. It was either that or she was frightened of what her father would do.

"Come on, we'll just be there for a little. And I'm guessing this will be the only time you've ever been at one of these?"

"Yes... But please, you mustn't!"

"Don't be scared. Let's go." I used her hand to pull her out of her chair and began leading her.

"But my father..."

"If you were really that scared you would have yanked your hand back already. Stop finding excuses and do what you want to do already."

"...Your tie is undone."

That must've been what everyone else was looking at. Ugh, everyone here is so uptight.

I pulled out the length of fabric and stuffed it into my pocket with my free hand.

She remained silent for a while and I slowed our canter so that she could catch up to me. I released her hand and she followed behind me with a practiced, uniform beat from her steps.

Soon the density of people increased and we were found in the company of many adults who were either too busy or too drunk to care about Weiss's presence.

She really wanted to try the punch for some reason. The server who cupped it was surprised but I played it off like she had been here for a long time already. She was terrified beyond belief but relaxed beyond relief when she was given the punch without much issue.

She had _never_ tried fruit punch before. She wasn't expecting it to be so sweet but enjoyed it quite a bit.

Then she wanted to try some of the desserts like cheesecake.

The table for the dessert was in sight when I heard a familiar voice call out a familiar name.

"G! G! Where were you?" Dez had found me. "Those pieces of... is this?"

"Yes, it is. We were just about to get some desserts." My twin stared at who I had been escorting. "You do know who this is right?"

"Of course I know! But..."

"It's rude to stare, you know." I laughed at Weiss's jab and Dez's reaction.

"Sorry! It's just that I thought you weren't supposed to be down here." I leaned in close to my sister and whispered,

"She isn't, but nobody knows she's down here. Those who do think she can be down here."

"Gray! What the hell are you doing! You could get into serious trouble!" She stepped back and pointed an accusatory finger at me. "If you want to get in trouble, don't rope anyone else in!"

"She's never been here before. She didn't know what fruit punch tasted like five minutes ago!" I crossed my arms and Weiss's blue eyes jumped between me and Dez. "Even _you_ have to acknowledge that's pretty bad."

Dez sighed, her bun moving slightly.

"...Okay, yeah that is pretty bad. But still!"

"What's the worst that could happen? It's not like Jacques will do anything more than lecture her." Weiss stood awkwardly behind me, as if awaiting for my sister's approval.

"Fine. But if you get caught, and I know you will, this was all your idea." Dez conceded. "Where's your tie?"

"In my pocket. Why?"

"Cin wanted me to fix it but you ran off."

"Well I don't have time for that. Ms. Schnee here wants to do a few more things."

"Alright then. Make it quick and then come back to the private room."

Dez went back and Weiss and I went around the party doing the things she wanted. Eventually, however, a guard saw Weiss and I saw that he saw her.

I took her back to where I found her with a purpose. Then I asked if she had a scroll and she did have one. I commandeered it from her and put down my information.

I left as quietly as I could and made it back to the private room in one piece.

-XXXXX-

"You know Junior, I never expected that you would take the heiress out to the banquet hall."

I got lectured by Dad. Sort of.

"And I never expected Jacques to thank me for that." Dad still had a stern face as he told me what happened.

"Really?" I thought he would be getting into a tough spot because of me.

"Yeah. He didn't want her to go down there, but at least he trusts us enough not to be too concerned." Dad chuckled a little. "You could have gotten shot."

"At least I didn't."

"Yeah, thank the gods. I'm not sure if the guard would have survived."

"Grey, don't encourage that!" Mom chastised my dad.

"It's the truth! Either one of those two could have taken on those guards, I'd wager."

I could get used to this. Leaving to Atlas every year or so. I think I'm Weiss's first friend too, which could give me some leverage in the SDC.

Maybe I could help with the working conditions in the refineries. Stop the White Fang from garnering more support?

A far off change, but a viable goal. I'm glad this all worked out without me getting shot though.

That would not have been conducive to allowing me back into Atlas.

Step by step, my actions bring me closer to my destiny.

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Hey all!

Thanks for keeping track of this story! This chapter's coming in early because I anticipate a lot of changes in my life soon.

First off, Fire Emblem: Three Houses is amazing! Marianne is best girl, don't at me.

Second off, Destiny 2: Shadowkeep is going to be coming out in a few months and there's probably gonna be a lot to do.

And finally, the biggest change of them all: I graduated from highschool just 3 months ago and I'm slated to be moving to WA to begin my university career in a week. I have no idea if I'll be able to update this fic for a while, so I ask that you please be patient while I get my feet underneath me in the months to come. I hope you all understand.

Thanks for reading and as always,

Cheers, Rico.)


	15. Intermission 1

(A/N: Hey all! This will be one short extra of many that came out of nowhere. Don't expect these regularly, but do expect a few more of them along the lines. Thank you for reading!)

-XXXXX-

"Nick, you're up," my eldest brother, Justin, declared.

I sat up in the back of the large van and rubbed at my tired eyes. Taking the invoice booklet, I jumped down onto the pockmarked asphalt and stepped into the supermarket.

Normally, I would have protested taking this delivery. Justin is the one getting paid for delivering. I get practically nothing. Not that I'd complain, but...

The humid, hot air from the outside stuck my faded red shirt to my chest. The cold, dry air from the store was pleasant but short lived.

I checked off the breads from the shelf on the booklet to take inventory. No need for item returns? Good.

Reluctantly, I exited the cool building out to the wet concrete and clearing clouds. Rain in the early morning sets the midday up to be unbearably hot. I hate it.

Constantly raining is probably the only other type of weather I would not want to deliver in. Overcast is ideal and _sunny as fuck_ is still much better than evaporating water. Thinking about it, snow is probably the worst type of weather to-

A loud honk and screeching tires brought my attention to the white sedan at my right coming to a halt.

"Oh fuck!" I put some distance between me and the stopped car as its owner rolled down his window. He looked more scared than mad, but he was clearly upset.

"Watch where you're going!" He warned me. Heart pumping intensely, I told him something I learned from my driving classes.

"Pedestrians have right of way!" I yelled back. He rolled his eyes and put his hand up to drive away. I shook the adrenaline out of my head and pulled myself into the delivery van.

"What happened?" Justin put his phone down onto the dashboard and reviewed the numbers on the paper meant to represent the bread on the shelf.

-XXXXX-

 _Signal Academy, Four weeks before the_ Ninth _Schnee Dust Company Charity Works Celebration_

Consciousness came back to me steadily with a nudge.

"Gray, get in the shower."

I sighed. How long ago was that dream? Fifteen years?

"Why?" I groaned to Desiree. "Let me sleep in. We have two more days." And like that, I shut my eyes to continue to sleep.

"Wake up," she said in a lower voice. "It's one in the afternoon. Get up. Yang and Kermes want to hang out one more time."

Ugh. Okay.

"What are we gonna do?" I asked, rubbing the sand out of my tired gray eyes.

"Probably just walk around. Hang out." Digging around in her closet, Dez produced a black skirt and a blouse the same dark red the rest of her wardrobe was comprised of. She didn't bother going into our bathroom before changing out of her relaxed wear.

"Can't you go with them? Make it a girls' day thing." I planned on cleaning Thunderstruck today. "I was planning on cleaning Thunderstruck today." Like I said.

"You cleaned it yesterday! Stop making excuses for being antisocial and get ready!"

"Well, yeah I had field stripped it and oiled its parts... I wouldn't say I cleaned it..."

"You took it apart piece by piece and scrubbed it down _and then_ you put oil on it." My sister cocked her hip to the side and fastened her skirt. "You are coming with me."

I relinquished my time for the day and went through with my average morning procedure. Shower, brush teeth, the norm.

Since Dez was going with a new look, I figured I would too. Black jeans would stay, but I went with a classic red-black-gray flannel shirt with rolled sleeves. No armor for today, not that it would matter anyways. Thunderstruck was coming with me, though. No exceptions.

In our common area was Yang and Kermes, browsing stuff on their scrolls. They knew we were there, they were just busy with their scrolls.

"Yo." Kermes, or "Kay" we usually called her, greeted. She put her scroll down. "We haven't decided what to do just yet." I sighed.

"Is there anything any of you want to do?"

The girls registered what I said in the same way. They dissociated from this reality and stared into the void before them. They all turned to me at random intervals as if to tell me they couldn't think of anything to do.

I let my head drop. Digging through distant and foggy memories that were more than rough around the edges, I thought of something to do.

"No? I've wanted to ice ski for a while."

"I have! It's fun!" Kay excitedly revealed.

"Alright, looks like we're doing that." Yang added. "I haven't since me and Rubes didn't care much for winter and snow."

"How have you guys not? Doesn't it snow long here on Patch?" Dez replied. She and Yang had a whole fast conversation about Yang's not having ice skated. Turns out her dad didn't get her and Ruby skates because he simply didn't know if they wanted to.

That's just a taste as to how well they got along. They like talking and Kermes likes to listen. She doesn't speak often, but she has a very vocal and caring personality. She keeps this little pocket journal to sketch things she sees that she finds inspiration in, somehow.

In the time I've gotten to know her, she's let me see this journal a few times. Following her hospitalization, she drew a gray silhouette - me - sitting in a chair, hunched over as if mourning something. I have a pretty good idea as to what that was. When asked about it, she simply said,

"Thanks for being there. I knew it was you."

In the meantime, we had boarded a shuttle to the mall we would usually go to for whatever we needed. It was a large complex and it was common for tourists - both abroad and domestic - to visit.

From there, we headed over to the rink and Kay taught us some basic tips using the blades we rented. Lean forward, don't look down, and some other useful stuff. The passersby watched Kermes do the cool stuff and averted their eyes from the friends she had who fell.

No matter what she said, I didn't like falling. I mean, sure everyone will very likely when they begin, but I still didn't like it. Whatever.

After a few good hours of making fun of each other for falling on our asses, we caught some lunch in the food court, catching up on classes and experiences.

Yang talked about how her dad liked to cook and bake. Ruby would often ask her mom for cookies, but ever since she passed on, their dad assumed the role of baker and cook. It's because of their dad that Ruby hasn't broken her cookie addiction. Yang says she's assumed some of that knowledge.

Kermes has an older brother in the police force. She mentioned how he would often try to persuade her to join even after entering Signal. She could join the police force as a huntress like Celeste did, I think.

On that topic, Yang asked what we would all be doing.

"I'm probably gonna either enlist in the Vale Reserve Guard or the police force if not that," Kermes said with little thought. She had clearly been thinking about her future for a long time already.

"I'm applying to Beacon and go pro," Yang added, taking a deep drink from her cup of soda. I said something like that too.

"Yeah, same here. I don't know what else I'd do."

"I might go to Atlas or Shade, but I don't know just yet," Desiree said next, having a few seconds of thought between her and my answers. "I might stick with you two and go to Beacon too."

'I would very much like that' I sent to her over our scrolls.

On that note, I would like to end there. That was our last get-together for the school year.

I would like to mention that I always suspected Yang would want to go to Beacon from more than the shows perspective. Her dad went to Beacon and she was following his footsteps, so it makes sense she would do the same.

No matter the case, I would also be going to Beacon. My grades and performance have been impeccable and I plan on keeping it that way. If I am to change the world, I am to change it with RWBY at Beacon, one way or another.


	16. The Gamble

It may seem reckless, but using summer days to stop a growing terrorist movement is a notion I would consider helpful.

It all started out simply enough. A walk around the more densely faunus southtown exposed a lot of secrets. Some of them pleasant, others... much less so.

Three white claw marks in the side of an air-conditioning unit demarcates places to be a meeting area for more than just recruiting efforts. Sometimes, this mark is a ways off from the venue. In those cases, light animal footprints of varying species are used to create a secret path to said place.

At first, I had meant for me to do this alone. Mapping out common spots would give me a good idea of when and where essential personnel would appear.

Cut the head off and the body will follow, or so I thought.

Once Dez and almost once my mom had caught me coming back, Dez insisted she tag along. I attempted to leave alone the night after, but her persistence to help me forced me to bite a bullet.

So after I had found a good number of cell meeting grounds, I got to work deciphering their hieroglyphic "code."

It was easy. They literally tell new recruits what the symbols they scratch in mean.

Most common are three claw marks: safe havens and areas of respite. Less common are single fangs: active boycotts. Open jaws with a number are sinister and intimidating: the building marked is subject to torching on that date of the month.

So I pinned all of those too. Boycotts typically mean a sit-in or an actual boycott. I would ask the (always human) owner how business has been and judge the tactic accordingly.

Active boycotts are signs of a passive, less radicalized cell. Simply not going to a store is easy and so is organizing that with a bunch of like-minded, mistreated people. Refusal of patronage is something I'd rather see.

Sit-ins are organized by the difficult ones. Cell leaders or managers use sit-ins to bring business to a screeching halt whenever. The Vale police force get involved regularly. Their interventions are never pretty.

There are a fair share of racist cops in this section of Vale. When they use force on the faunus in those sit-ins, the faunus use it as a justification to kill somebody.

All sit-ins I've seen always end up with at least two deaths: a human and a faunus.

I remember a time when humans supported the White Fang. Celebrities and huntsmen speaking out for the minority. Now those kinds of people have been shunned.

What has this world come to?

-XXXXX-

I realize now that I didn't finish that thought.

It _had_ started out simply enough. At first, we were just performing reconnaissance.

Eventually, a new mark was created: a cage. The cage would mean that the resources in these buildings were of import and needed to be taken.

Then, 24-hour dust dispenseries were being trashed. One in this area was run by a close family friend.

To be fair, this person wasn't the most supportive of the White Fang. He served faunus customers, but his attitude towards the group almost got his business struck down.

Key word: almost.

Desiree stepped in when she learned that the Fang were planning on holding up the owner's daughter. The moment a group of grimm-masked assailants converged in an adjacent alley, she jumped down and subdued them all.

Without her mask. In her zealous indignation, she incapacitated a group of four faunus.

I let her know how she might have compromised our operations. She was regretful.

On the bright side, the little SDC subsidized dust store didn't get robbed.

We laid very low the week after. Nothing, as far as we could tell, really happened.

Our return was quite eventful.

-XXXXX-

"The meeting's starting, Gray."

From the warehouse's darkened skylight, the chattering voices of those inside died down as the loud, booted steps of a ringleader entered the room.

"Good evening, brothers and sisters. You have all done well these past few weeks. It is a rough estimate, but over 300 kilos of dust of different types have been taken from the humans." Ringleaders are our colloquial term for the cell organizers. They are supposed to meet every 5th and 25th of every month to give a report and encourage growth. "Our particular area is responsible for more than 200 of those kilos. For our efforts, our very own sect leader has come with words of thanks and wisdom."

I was expecting the cell leader.

Not Adam Taurus.

And standing in the background was the one and only Blake Belladona.

He went on and on about righting injustices and that humans around have been more docile and compliant. I had none of that shit and pulled Desiree back away from our spot.

"Dez Dez Dez! You see that girl with the cat ears and black hair and yellow eyes behind Adam?" I whispered to her hurriedly. She nodded and peaked again. "That's Blake Belladonna! She's important and we can't risk anything happening to her!"

"How do you suppose we keep that from happening?"

"She'll see the current White Fang's cruelty and she'll abandon it."

"Okay, so what do we have to do?"

I hadn't thought of that just yet. My mind was clouded by the fact that Blake was here, in person, cheering alongside the rest of the terrorists down there. Her inciting incident hadn't happened yet.

Then it hit me.

"At some point maybe next year, her and Adam rob a train. She... I think she changes her mind then." That meant that we were far too early. "We can't do anything now, but at least we know for a fact that she's here in Vale. Let's get out of here."

We jumped down from the roof and hit the ground quietly. What we saw next chilled us to the bone.

Slipping our masks into the bags we brought, we started walking at a normal pace. After just passing the entry point into that venue, we met someone we knew.

"Katrina?" The name pulled the adrenaline into my blood. Her head of white hair and white wolf ears flung in our direction as she stopped midstep.

"Dez? And Gray?" She turned slowly to face us properly.

She was going to that meeting.

"What are you two doing here?" Katrina asked forcefully. Her hand twitched down to her weapon at her hip and so did mine.

"We're just looking around for places to eat at." Just as we practiced, Desiree gave us a fake alibi. "We just finished a late night run with all of our gear, so..."

I softened my stance and Katrina followed suit, a distant frown taking shape too.

"Yeah... I was running too." Purple irises fell to the ground. "You two... probably shouldn't run through here though. Neighborhoods like these are pretty sketchy sometimes." I chimed in this time.

"Oh, thanks for the advice." After a second of silence, I followed up. "We should go then."

"Yeah." Kat said to herself. "See you guys around." She ran around the building and out of sight.

I heaved a dry breath out with a hatred and nudged Dez. We had to get out of here.

So we ran our trail back home.

"Fuck!" my sister yelled as we entered a forest trail at 1 A.M. "Gray!"

"I know!" I yelled back in between breaths. "We'll talk about it later!"

I had never run so fast before.

There were obvious implications for Katrina's attendance of a White Fang meeting. She was obviously part of the Fang, for one.

However, her enrollment at a combat academy also meant that she could stand toe-to-toe with low level huntsmen. Like us.

My heart, aching in pain, sped up even more. A pulsating wave of fear invaded my thoughts, met by stern anger as we silently entered our room.

"Dee." I threw the rubber knuckled gloves that stuck to my sweaty hands to the ground. Even on the soft carpeted floor of our room, the hard rubber clicked against itself. "Promise me this." I drew in a breath and let it out shakily. "If we have to kill her..."

Dez stared at me in disbelief. She didn't blink.

"You will not hesitate."

The words stung my slowing heart. I'm sure it did more to her.

She stuttered a few times before I was sure her thoughts stopped. Sitting at her bedside, she slouched and silently wept.

She didn't even know she was crying.

"We can't let her stand in our way." I sat beside her and turned her face to mine. "If she becomes an obstacle, we'll..." I trailed off as she nodded warily at my words.

"We'll... _I'll_ do it." She broke down and let her nails dig into her face as if it was the reason we were put into this position. Pulling her in intensified her emotional pain greatly.

"I swear to you and _all that is fucking holy,_ I'll try to keep her out of this." Mentally signing off that contract didn't ease _my_ emotional pain at all.

Somehow, some way, we'd cross weapons. This I know for a fact.

This world is twisted and cruel.

-XXXXX-

So, being denizens of it, we took our anger out on those pulling the strings.

Slow like a scalpel, we carried out little missions to make any meetings and events we watched a pain in the ass.

We purposefully avoided the areas we deduced Katrina frequented.

Whether we were scared of her or wanted to provoke her, we didn't know. One thing we do know is that we didn't forgive the White Fang for taking our friend.

It was the tiny things we did that made us feel better. Scuff out the claw marks to confuse new members, mark up faunus-run/White Fang-backed businesses, simply steal back small quantities of dust to fuck with their logistics... All of them were minor inconveniences at best.

And at worst a debilitating loss for the Fang. Attacking your own supporters isn't a good way to get more.

I think it was brilliant, what we did. After they sacked a faunus owned business and lost traction for a bit, they always scouted a marked place first before they struck, oftentimes giving the workers time to call authorities or close prematurely.

It was still bad for business, but not as bad as it could have been.

That hesitation, though, wouldn't last long. They soon found a semi-legitimate justification for that: if they can't meet there to plan, they can meet there to hurt whoever owned the place.

Over the course of two and a half months, we had inadvertently made the White Fang's goals more advanced.

And we had no more time to further those goals. The school year was starting again.

-XXXXX-

I'm glad Dez and I aren't Ruby's age.

Mr. Wheaton just had a new program pushed onto the first-years.

They start earlier than returning students. Then they have to forge their weapons in the first month of school and get assigned to instructors right after.

So not only do they begin the year before us, but they also have more responsibilities when they start.

Nothing changes for second-year students, but third-years like us...

Not gonna lie, I'm a little upset that third-years have to mentor first-years. We have to help them with their weapon creation and then we have to make sure they don't fail out.

On the upside, I'll have an easier schedule overall.

But I personally think the fourth-years should be mentoring instead of us.

Whatever. I'll take a more flexible timetable.

I have to get Ruby as my mentee. Qrow still isn't here, so she'll probably get Ms. Alba Fiontan as the improvised weapon professor.

Not a single professor at Signal knows how to use a scythe.

Dez is finally learning her rifle techniques. She also finally named it.

Gunmettle, she calls it. A courageous name for a brutal gun.

She currently has Fiontan as her instructor. CQC will be her lesson and Gunmettle the lesson plan, as Dez put it.

I'm thinking about forging a sidearm really soon too. I've got range, but I could use something more handy up close.

-XXXXX-

So as it turns out, Ruby is planning to use a sword.

A sword.

Not a scythe. Not the weapon she was supposed to use.

A sword.

On top of that, she's been assigned to my sister.

Not me.

My sister.

I was crushed. This Ruby is not the Ruby I know.

Yet she is the only Ruby Rose in her class. The only half-sister of Yang.

The only silver-eyed, black-red haired, combat skirt wearing Ruby.

The worst part is that I can see why the professors assigned her to Dez. Dez was the former user of a sword, had a welcoming personality that worked well with quiet-types(like me, I suppose), and even had similar colors to Ruby.

The only other person I could see managing Ruby better would be Qrow or Yang.

My mentee, Midori Vermouth expressed interest in preparing a lance-type weapon. More specifically, she was a huge fan of the on-the-rise Pyrrha Nikos. She wanted a lance and shield combo. She also wanted her shield to explode. Christ.

Being the weapon tryhard I was, I suggested she load mines in the front of her shield. They were more like reactive pressure plates, but isn't that what mines are anyway? Everything was easy to make.

I especially helped her with the shield. Beneath the surface of the shield was a rotary magazine of explosives that aligned in the middle. Slamming the shield face into something detonated the explosive, spitting the spent mine case out and letting another slide in.

Now, it would be incredibly dangerous to just have a bunch of live mines on the contact surface, so they are all primed by a trigger mechanism on the handle of the shield that pulls the priming pin.

It's quite intimidating to be hit with an explosion and then have the shield both spit out a casing and a pin with a loud mechanical clang.

She's mostly focusing on the shield with her huntsman instructor. I'm only tutoring her on lance techniques.

Desiree and Ruby, on the other hand, are having a much harder time.

Ruby has a sword-shotgun hybrid. It's much more simple than many other weapons: The shotgun is the crossguard and the sword configuration is just a simple longsword.

Dez says that she can't seem to nail techniques that well and... overall isn't good.

I feel incredibly guilty saying this, but I'm glad that she's not great with a sword. I actually backseat drove Dez for some time, but she got irritated and ignored me for a whole week.

I obviously couldn't just tell Ruby to use a scythe because that would either reveal how much I knew or make me seem like an asshole meddler.

So I decided to take the long, stupidly convoluted approach.

Since no one at Signal knows how to use a scythe - which might be the reason she isn't using one - I should bring someone that did to Signal.

The problem was that finding someone was hard.

Don't take me for an idiot, either. I kept Qrow in mind.

He was not an easy man to find. I almost didn't find him, but a friend by the name of Junior did.

So, here I am, staring this haggard disappointment of a man down in a bar on the bad side of Vale. The bar was drab and dilapidated, with blemishes poorly hidden along the walls by the stains of spilled beverages. The drunken man was not much better. His clothes were faded and disheveled, hair messy and beard hardly kept. His weapon was nowhere near him. On the lonely corner table was more bottles of hard alcohol than there were rounds in my gun.

The smell hit me all at once as scents of alcohol, sweat, gunpowder, and lead. It twisted my nose and I grimaced as I grabbed a chair and placed it in front of him.

A flash of silver caught my eye. In his hand was a silver crucifix hung on its side, weaving its way around his fingers.

"Qrow Branwen?" I asked but was ignored. "I would like a word with you."

"Who was it?"

"My name is-"

"How was she related to you?" He slurred. "Girlfriend, wife, sister..." He lazily picked his head up to get a glimpse of me. "Mother?" Barring little else, he let his head fall to the table.

"What do you mean?" I actually had no idea what he meant with that question.

"The girl I slept with. How was she related t'ya?" Gripping the cross tightly, he closed his eyes.

"I don't think you've slept with any of my family." I said. "At least I hope." I added. Qrow let out a hollow laugh and resumed fiddling with his necklace ornament.

"That's funny, kid. That's real funny." He pushed his head off the table, nearly sliding off his chair in the process, to look at me. "T'who do I owe this fine pleasure to?"

"My name is Gainsboro Argent." Holding my hand out to shake was a mistake, his slackened grip and sweaty hand made me regret that formality greatly. "I would like to talk to you about a job."

"What kind? Escort? Rough up?" He leaned further over the table and the shadow on his head darkened. "Hit? I don't do any a' those."

"No, no, no!" I shook the thought out and corrected him. "I mean an actual, legitimate job." Unimpressed as he was, I completed the request. "I would like for you to work at Signal Combat Academy."

"Nope." He rejected, leaning back. "Not gonna do it."

"I will pay you _on top_ of your salary."

"Why should I? Why should I work for a combat academy when I make bank bodyguarding twitchy rich people and exterminating grimm? You really don't know me, kid."

I couldn't put my cards on the table. I had to come up with an excuse.

But I couldn't come up with one. In a panic, I said something that definitely got his attention.

"You know your nieces go there, right?"

Immediately he stood up and had me in his hands.

"Leave them alone. This isn't a threat. This is a PROMISE." His stagnant breath and heavy tone made me cringe in both disgust and fear.

"I'm not gonna do anything to them! I just wanted to let you know that I'm your sister's daughter's friend!" He narrowed eyes at me. Two minutes pass where my face is still 3 inches from his face.

Then he let me go and I fell into my seat, heaving a hot breath into the table.

"So..." He began, letting another minute pass. "Why do you want me to work at Signal?"

I thought about what I could say that would convince him to go but also not reveal what the true intention was. I threw caution to the wind and said,

"There's more to discuss aside from that. We need to meet up some other time." Pushing my scroll onto the table, I accidentally knocked a bottle over.

It shattered on the floor and I was reminded of his semblance in that moment.

"How can I trust you, kid?" he rightly suspected.

"I'll just tell you it'd be _bad luck_ for anyone else involved." The red irises of his eyes became more revealed as he got the connotation.

I gave myself a mental high-five at the slickness of that figurative vocal maneuver.

That seemed to have convinced him enough to at least talk to me elsewhere. I made my leave and began my trek back to Signal from across Vale.

Not before slapping some lien for a replacement drink for the one _I_ broke.

-XXXXX-

Getting in touch with Qrow _sucks_.

He takes forever to respond to texts and doesn't ever pick up for calls.

Thankfully, I was able to arrange a meeting with him in a bar he chose.

The "Crow-bar."

This fucking alcoholic. Of course he was hammered before I got there. Absolutely blasted but still somehow lucid.

It amazed me how someone can be so dumb but still in control.

"Ruby can't sword fight." There was a whole half-hour before this where I had been listing off pros and now I've been listing a bunch of cons I wanted him to fix.

"I know she can't. But that's why she's going to a combat academy. To learn."

"Yeah but she needs to do better, faster."

"She'll do things at her own pace."

"Her pacing isn't good enough."

"If she fails out, she fails out."

I was getting frustrated with this guy. Not only does he smell bad, but he has the nerve to waste my time by just disagreeing with everything I say.

The smell bad part was supposed to make me feel better. It didn't work.

I had to get him in somehow. Timing wasn't an issue, as instructors came and went and usually had flexible procedures.

Posing a good reason to go would be the challenge as I've stated before.

So I turned to what basically amounted to a gamble.

"Fine. I'll let you in on a little secret."

That got his attention.

"I have knowledge of events that have yet to come." A sad grin met his face and I could tell that he wouldn't be taking me seriously.

"What, that we all die? I've seen that future too."

"Are you a betting man, Qrow?" I poised myself.

"Yeah, sure, but you should know why by now." Qrow chuckled. He was obviously referring to how his semblance makes competitors less fortunate literally.

I'd show him that I was different.

"What I know and what I'm about to bet is about to change your whole world." I smugly started. Not buying it still, I continued. "Ruby'll die on her first extermination if she isn't using a scythe."

"A what!?" Qrow damn near spat out his whiskey into my face. "You can't be serious."

"I am. And even if she does use a scythe, she'll still die." Then I pointed a finger at him, "You need to teach her how to use it."

"So you know more about me than I thought you did." Qrow sighed, not bothering to empty his glass. "I try to only use the scythe against grimm..." He scratched his beard. "And how am I supposed to believe that you're not blowing shit out your mouth? How did you become aware of these 'events?'"

"I don't have proof yet. But if you do sign up, you'll know I was right if she makes a high caliber sniper scythe called... called..."

"The name? Is that the name?"

"Yes. And it's name will be... Crescent Rose." I said the name with an unseen intensity and placed a strange weight on it. I must have done this subconsciously, since I knew that everyone's futures would be hinged on its existence.

Either way, it didn't change Qrow's hearty laughter.

"Oh, don't worry. You saying it so seriously is funny in itself, but the sheer coincidence that she'll slap her last name on it is what got me." Qrow uncorked a different bottle of alcohol - one that wasn't whiskey - before he forwent the drinking glass. "You know what I mean?"

I knew exactly what he meant.

He was trying to pretend like that name wouldn't be a tribute to her mother. That him chugging a bottle of rum would get me to forget or to lose my train of thought.

Nope. This very act reminded me, even. I took the cue from drinking to forget and wondered: what could Qrow want to forget? Why would the name "Rose" cause him to drink?

"So, her last name? Not her mom's?" He didn't know what I was asking at the moment and simply raised an eyebrow in questioning, still sipping the drink down. Until I hit him with, "Not for Summer?"

That sure got him to understand.

"What I know can change the future- _will_ change the future. She can save Remnant!" Qrow stopped and sobered up as if on command. I could tell that he was beginning to agree with me.

"And if I still say no?" My stomach churned at this question, but I knew he was testing me. There couldn't be any fucking way he'd say no to this, even if it was just an astronomically low chance.

"Then I'd have to force you to." I said, pulling courageous intent into my face from places I didn't know existed. I pretended to have the resolve and the ability.

Qrow simply sat, silently. He resumed his drink, shaking his head and gaining a grim figurative aura.

"Alright, kid. I'll do it." He conceded. "I ain't gonna be there for long. Only as long as she's there."

Oh thank the gods.

"Yes! Yes, of course!" I slapped some lien cards on the table as a symbol of good will. "I got your drinks, sir."

"Ugh, don't call me sir. It makes me feel old."

That day, I celebrated with Dez. I made her know what Ruby was to do. We were ready.

-XXXXX-

Within half a month, rumors circulated about a haggard huntsman being present on the Signal campus. I had an idea who it was.

"Hey Gray! This is my cute little sister, Ruby!" Yang presented me. I grinned to the young girl that hung to her older sister's side.

She was wearing her long-sleeved black dress with the red trimmings and her waist sincher. She even had her iconic red cloak, but it was hung around her neck. From what I remembered, she had her cloak pinned to her dress with the silver crosses Qrow had? She did have one of those, but it was larger and on her belt, which suspended a black leather scabbard that itself held a black-hilted, silver pommeled and guarded sword.

I pretended like I didn't quite remember her.

"Oh yeah! She's Dez's mentee, but I think you also mentioned you had a sister." I lied. I perpetuated the falsity by stepping deeper, with a truth. "I think I've actually seen her before." Ruby brightened up considerably.

"Yeah! You showed me your weapon two years ago when I was with my dad!"

"Oh you're right!" I said, spinning out Thunderstruck and holding it out to her. "I was thinking about making a sidearm for it, but I'm for sure keeping this one."

She grabbed hold of it, clumsily. The weight almost immediately put her on the ground, but she used aura and made sure that wouldn't have happened. She admired the piece as much as I do, carefully rubbing the metal construction and testing the blade.

"May I see yours?" I asked in turn. Ruby hardly even looked at me when Yang just unsheathed it and handed to me.

"Yeah, she's drooling over yours for now."

The blade was a deep crimson red, as I've come to see as common. The large, bulky guard seemed just a bit too large for a blade of this length and width. In every other regard, it was a masterwork: the blade had been beveled beautifully and smoothly, the point was even and sharp, the hilt had perfect ergonomics for a girl with hands like Ruby.

Like, even as essential as it was, the shotgun could be easily removed. An easy pair of cross pins held it in place. Pushing them out allowed the gun to slide up and off the sword. What was left was a frankly light weight and usable sword. Its lack of a crossguard was a glaring concern, but it could otherwise hold up to other like swords.

After I had thoroughly appraised the weapon, I immediately went to my plan.

"So have you guys heard about the new instructor?" I reinitiated.

"No. Who is it?" Yang asked, pulling my weapon away from Ruby. In response, Ruby blushed and pulled her hood over her head once she realized she had investigated someone else's means of attack longer than she had had a conversation with them.

"I think his name was... Qrow with a Q?"

"Really?!" both girls slammed me with. Yang explained her and her sister's outburst, "He's our uncle!"

"Your uncle uses a scythe?" I continued to ask.

"He does?" Ruby questioned intensely.

"Does he?" Yang wondered.

"I dunno, that's just what I heard." And just like that, I made them want to have their uncle expose a part of his weapon. Ergo, I made them want to learn more about his personality. "Well, I gotta go and get started on my notes and think up what I want for my sidearm. Nice to see you again, Ruby." I made my leave.

That wasn't a lie. I did do my notes for my classes and poured a lot of thought into what I wanted.

It had to hit hard, first and foremost. A high caliber would amend that.

It also had to be easy to access, but that would be the holster's job.

Those being the only two criteria, I submitted the specifications to the designer.

I've come so far since coming here. Both to Remnant and to Signal.

But that wasn't enough. I had to go even further.

-XXXXX-

"Death is a distant rumor to the young."

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Wow, has it been a while since I last updated.

Hey everyone! Rico here. Thank you for keeping up with The Calming Storm. Thank you for your patience and understanding! College had eaten up all of my time and I had to use my winter break to piece this chapter together. Now that I know what to expect from college, I can likely upload more often, but a regular schedule is still going to be far off. Yes, this is a double upload. I've had the Intermission in the workshop for a time now, and I feel it would be fair to upload them close to each other. In any case, I hope you have enjoyed the fic so far!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Cheers, Rico.)


	17. The Outcast

True to my word, although I had no control over it, Qrow's arrival to Signal marked a new age.

Ruby held her uncle to a standard one would think would be unattainable for him. But he held his part of the "deal" up. The guy actually supported Ruby and went above and beyond.

Ruby didn't even have to draw up specifications for her scythe. She simply turned up to the forge one day and literally hammered out her new weapon. I got to talking to her one day and the following conversation went like this:

"Those aren't designer documents," I pointed out. The sheets of paper in front of the girl were beige from age. They were also traced in pen atop the scribbles of pencil marks. Most significantly, it was all handwritten. "Did you come up with this by yourself?"

"Yeah," she said between giddy giggles. She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face and pulled a lengthy, hot tube of metal out of the furnace. "Now I just gotta make it," she said, precariously moving the piece through the workshop. She placed the rod in a tub full of water, creating a loud hiss and a cloud that filled the room briefly with hot steam.

"You sure you have everything drawn out right? The tiniest mistake has the potential to make you start over." I learned that the hard way when I was making Thunderstruck. I didn't measure my cut to make sure and had to rework the receiver completely as a result.

"Yes, I did," she said harshly. I recoiled a bit at her tone. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that!" She didn't want me nagging her while she made it, I inferred.

"Nah, it's alright. I'll leave you to it." I picked up my messenger's binder, which had my new blueprints and went to retrieve my materials.

And now I'm talking about my sidearm. Fuck yeah.

It was mostly an assortment of hard metals that I took from the workshop's inventory.

The details would take a lot of time to explain. Over the course of a few days, I shaped, treated, and tempered the new gun I would be using.

The frame took form before the barrel did. It had a large space behind where the barrel was to be for one, uncompromising intention: I was making a revolver.

I honestly expected to get a self loading pistol, but a revolver would work great too. The designer responsible gave numerous sound reasons as to why they suggested that kind of weapon. I am personally a fan of the "you can make it use higher power rounds" part.

I used the same technique for rifling Thunderstruck for this gun. It was easier this time around on account of having a shorter workpiece.

The cylinder took the least amount of time despite being different from other revolver's cylinders. This one had a capacity of eight rounds.

Eight bullets - more than enough to kill any grimm that moves.

Yeah so anyways...

It's gonna be double-action. As much as I want it to be a straight up single, DA is just overall a better choice for a sidearm magnum gun, though some will argue.

Having experience with Thunderstruck's trigger group, and though this one was quite unique to me, I fashioned a group much faster and in a better quality than if I didn't have experience at all. It's like Mom used to say, "If you know oranges, you know grapefruits."

The analogy was lost to me every time but the idea wasn't.

The last remaining part to make were the pins to keep the thing together and that was easy on account of a machine that did the actual milling.

If I had to hand-mill any part of my weapons, they would take maybe twice as long as they do now.

Thankfully, I have computers and algorithms and code lines to do so for me.

I finished the handgun at around the same time Ruby had finished the rifle part of her weapon. That could either show how good she was at making weapons or how meticulous I was in making mine.

Or how bad. I certainly hope it isn't that.

So now I have a plain-jane magnum revolver. Plain in Remnant's sense, but actually unique for an Earth design.

The revolver fires from the bottom chamber instead of the traditional top chamber. Eight rounds on tap is 33% more shots than the six that seemed to be the custom for revolvers. The hammer is a simple spur type so I can pre-cock in case I need a light trigger, but that'll matter when I actually need to use it.

Coincidentally, when I was going to pick up my technical data package to produce my ammo, I learned that the round it's chambered for also has a similarly dimensioned shotshell that's also quite common.

To make sure that this thing wouldn't absolutely murder my wrists every time I shot it, I made a five-port muzzle brake that I also crowned to double as a stand off device because grimm are aggressive and so am I.

I'd be lying if I didn't mention that I didn't make this just for the grimm.

And so I began to attend lessons for fast draws. I managed to time my completion of this gun perfectly. Shortly after it was done, a seminar for pistol-type weapons was held where we practiced modern Remnant fast draw techniques.

I had the easiest time adapting the revolver to this practice. After all, nearly everyone there had to consider using their weapon's secondary forms in conjunction with the quickness of their draw.

It was funny the first few times we practiced. The majority of students here have little, anemic chambered guns that didn't make as much noise as my work of art.

Granted they always drew faster because of the reduced weight. Mere milliseconds, but sometimes audible.

I, being unfamiliar with drawing like my life depended on it, ended up firing last consistently for the first few lessons. Everyone would always look at me when the loud explosion of a gunshot drowned out the little raindrops of their guns. And so, I dubbed this revolver The Last Word.

Ha ha, no. I like to call it that but the official name is The Ultimate Statement. More kickass, same meaning.

Gods, I'm like a little kid when it comes to this thing.

Who else can say they made the Last Fucking Word from Destiny? It's gray and boring-looking, but still has the same shape and form of the gun. For ease of determination, I'll abbreviate to TLW or TUS when I don't feel like being poetic.

-XXXXX-

Ruby's finished Crescent Rose. Most of the students and even some of the faculty have taken to calling her the Red Reaper as opposed to the Grimm Reaper because apparently that's already been taken. Honestly? I should be surprised but you really can't blame Remnant for having the pseudonym occupied.

I'd also like to point out that, having mentors, us third-years have to accompany their mentees for their first extermination.

For fuck's sake...

We all have a month to prepare.

I made a checklist for Midori to follow(and a copy for Desiree to give to Ruby). It was just like what I brought with me for our second-year exterminations.

40% of your bag space should be ammunition... another 40% easy-access provisions... 20% survival supplies.

But as it turned out, the first-years would have a common lodging and a caterer to reduce fatigue and malnutrition on the field.

This is bullshit! These first-years have no idea how easy they have it!

First of all, common lodging!? They get to sleep in these log cabins provided by the village they are assisting. What is this, a fucking vacation?

Second, they get their own catering service? Fuck that. They should hunt and gather their own food outside the village's premises.

I love my mentee, as spoiled as her class can be, but the administration needs to force them into the fire for a bit before they almost literally pamper them.

And hey, I'm all for maximum potential when it comes to killing grimm as the next guy, but come the fuck on. The first-years could get some valuable experience on so many different fronts.

Well, at least that means I get a warm bed to myself when I go with Midori. I'm down for that.

-XXXXX-

The village we're helping out is somewhere in the northern forests of Patch. Our winter break also starts the week after this extermination.

I got in touch with Yang and she told me that her family lives close in that area and that sometimes she, Ruby, and Mr. Taiyang would go to the village to get necessities for living in a pinch.

Oh, and her mentee is Midori's twin brother Galliano Vermouth.

Midori and Galliano are spitting images of each other if it weren't for the fact that Galliano has a yellow motif and blond hair whilst Midori is green with green hair.

And yes, it's all natural. Like mine. Like Kay's. Like literally everyone else who has a strange shade of hair. Like Ruby.

-XXXXX-

The month we had to prepare went by so uneventfully that it all melted together.

I kept my usual loadout for the exterm, but increased ammunition by 10% and reduced provisions by 10%. It might not matter, but I'll have snacks while everyone else is waiting for the meal to be made.

We're taking some skybuses for a few hour ride, not that that matters.

Thought it does, because that's what I'm doing now.

"Hey Dez." I nudged my sister in the arm from behind. "Are you gonna use Gunmettle when you patrol?"

"No, I'm probably gonna use 'Phestus. Why?" I held up a dust round that just was just barely as large as my hand.

"I'm wanna test some dust rounds for it."

"What kind? I've tried fire and air." She took hold of the silver-cased, black-tipped round. "What is this?"

"This is a impact-action gravity dust round. Its mass will multiply when it hits its target." I punched my hand to iterate its utility. "Basically it flies like normal round but it'll punch harder than one."

"Uhh no. If you loaded that one wrong it might quite literally blow Gunmettle up in your face." She shook her head and turned forward again, more content on waiting in line than considering the possibility of a round that could break most auras in a single hit. "And I do _not_ want to fix Gunmettle for any reason."

"I've tried the same round out in Thunderstruck before. The worst it'll do is dislocate my shoulder, if you've toleranced it right."

She pondered that for a moment before sighing.

"Alright, fine. If Gunmettle explodes, you're both pulling the shrapnel out of your face and reforging the entire thing." I stuffed the round into its specially made case and placed that back into my bag. I sincerely didn't want that thing going off in my bag.

"Sure, sure."

In a matter of a few dozen minutes, everyone was packed aboard the skybuses and we were away.

I dozed off trying to make use of my time by checking and correcting notes for my classes this year.

I had a dream this time. It had been a long time since I had a dream but can't say I remember what it was anymore. That's to be expected though. Most dreams are forgotten quickly.

Upon waking up, you'd imagine my surprise seeing music metrics and notes on the pages I hadn't used yet.

But I didn't have time to play it out in my head.

We had just landed near the village we were all staying at. The meandering pace of the other junior huntsmen and huntresses around me tempted me back to sleep.

The residents of the ville had managed to clear out a small number of houses for use as our barracks. Being afforded more space than the first-years kept me sane, but much less could be said for them.

I grabbed a bed in the corner of the lodge and was told to help the first-years by one of the official huntsmen following this trip.

The underclassmen did need a little bit of assistance, not having much space to store their belongings. For once, being tall worked for me.

Being tall means I'm less agile and a larger target, but now that I'm not fighting anything, I get to place items on top of the bunk beds the first-years are using.

Some of these kids are clearly out of their element and even more are raring to go.

"Hey, Gray? Could you put this up?" a familiar, soft voice asked. Midori's head couldn't reach the frame she was sleeping on.

"Sure." I took the bag rattling with ammo and set it on the loft. A weird static shock stung my neck when I remembered those dozens of pounds of ammunition were explosives. "Yep. Yep. I don't want to touch your bag again." Midori laughed and set her lance and shield down as I power walked away.

After a few hours of helping the kids, the huntsmen let us know that dinner was ready. After dinner today would be some free time followed by sleep time.

Unfortunately for me, I was on watch for the 3rd shift meaning I had to wake up in the middle of the night and keep watch for an hour or so.

The dinner was a welcome change from my past few years as a junior huntsman. It was obviously cooked in bulk but it still beat whatever over-roasted meat I had to eat the other times. Yang, Kay, and Dez seemed to disagree but I really couldn't complain.

So I get back to the bed I claimed and there's this guy sitting on it, writing in his journal or diary or something. I tell him,

"Hey, uhhh I think I took this one first." He hadn't even moved my bag.

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the guy goes,

"No. I was here first," and keeps writing.

At that point I would be upset. Bruno 3 beds down saw me put my bad over the corner of the frame, but for some reason, I _believed_ he was right and nearly apologized. Bruno stepped in though.

"No, he was. I saw him put his bag on the bed, dude." The guy, light gray hair flopping and gray wolf ears spinning about, turned fast to Bruno. "That's Gray's."

 _And then_ it clicked for me. This guy lied to me! I fell for it! I would've slapped myself for that.

Promptly, the faunus gathered his belongings and marched off almost furiously to the opposite side of the room.

"That was Canas Lupin," Bruno exhaled. "His semblance lets him lie to a single person." I had seen him around but he always kept to himself.

"Oh." Wow. Okay. "Thanks, man."

"Nah, I just don't want that dickhead to steal any more shit from people."

"Has he done that before? I imagine it wouldn't be hard with that semblance." That kind of semblance would be pretty useful, truthfully.

"Yeah. For some dumb fuckin' reason he stole Kamari from me." Shenzi was Bruno's right hand gauntlet, while Kamari was the name of his left hand gauntlet. "I didn't know it was him until long after I made Azizi, and even then, I didn't have proof." Bruno pointed to Canas, specifically his belt. He has gauntlets like mine but I don't know how the hell they work because I know they're different. Calls them 'Romulus and Remus.'"

"Huh. Well thanks for calling him out." I reached to Thunderstruck to confirm that he hadn't tried to grab it. Bruno acknowledged my thanks and I threw myself onto the mattress, the metal frame creaking loudly and arching down to the ground. I needed to sleep now if I wanted to stay awake for the watch.

-XXXXX-

My awakening for the watch was uneventful. The barracks we were in was no longer lively and lit. The snow had begun to fall yet again.

I climbed the stairs to the roof and took in the rest of the scenery. A large wall of dormant trees surrounded the lovely little town. The moon was full tonight, illuminating the night and seemingly enchanting the frigid air.

On top of this building was a round, wooden picnic table where the older students - me and my watch partner - were to sit. At the four corners were some first-years, wearily standing the cold, shuddering and heaving breaths that blew clouds from their mouths.

Kay walked up behind me and tapped me on the right shoulder. I looked behind to my right and saw nobody.

Then I turned left. She flashed a smile that curled the scars on her face greatly.

I felt a deep remorse as she did this. The long, jagged pair of lines that traced from her forehead to her rosy cheeks nauseated me, and that is where the feeling began.

"You know, you rock those scars pretty well," I lied. She shouldn't have those at all.

"Thanks." She smiled further. We went up to the table and relieved Alizarin Booker and Capri Dodger and the four first-years with us relieved their respective corners.

And then the long haul began. I closed my eyes to meditate and held my aura up to stay warm.

I peered into the gray swirling storm that was all too familiar to me. It had grown. It still spun.

The middle was an empty void and the arms of the spiral stretched outward infinitely. The periodic cracks of thunder could only be heard by me just as only I could see the branches of lightning arc between the clouds of the storm.

I stared at this to find the answers to the questions I had.

What is my soul made of?

What can I do?

What happened to Katrina?

Who is looking for me?

The storm accepted these questions, spinning faster as I fueled it with doubt and fear. I steeled my heart against the whispers of the lies it told me.

 _'Lies and whispers.'_

 _'Nothing of use.'_

 _'She joined the White Fang.'_

 _'Someone you don't want to be found by.'_

The storm spun itself into a malevolent grin, the eye remaining but the limbs conforming into a wicked curve. My head filled with blood as the gray in the storm took on a sickening red hue.

Can we beat them? _'Not while time flows.'_

Can I save them? _'Not with the truth.'_

Why am I here? _'You will never know.'_

We were told that these are the thoughts of our subconscious, surfacing as our aura strengthens. All doubt must be eliminated before you realize your purpose. When you find your purpose, whether you know it or not, you discover your semblance, the ultimate tool to fulfill your purpose.

For it is through the storm that we are tested. Through this, I will become a shroud for the worthy and shelter for the pure to defend innocence.

The moonlight flickered in my eyes. Rose petals floated about in a line.

I shook my meditation away. Something's not right. I let Kay and the first-years know that I was going to be gone for a little and followed the trail.

Obviously Ruby was going somewhere. The trail of rose petals first led to a small house that reminded me of distant memories that were not my own. Then from there they led to an off-path trail.

I followed the trail to the edge of a cliff. Among the pure white snow, blackened trees, blue night sky, and silver moon sat a solitary gray stone.

I approached the stone as the red rose petals on the ground became buried by the snow.

'Summer Rose'

'Thus kindly I scatter.'

I caught my breath in my throat and ran alongside the cliff.

The rose petals were not visible anymore, but I knew that she didn't leave any in the ground either.

I ran back to the house and something in my mind told me to follow the wind.

So I did, dodging the dead trees and keeping low. There were grimm here now. I was not alone.

I found Ruby and more than a dozen beowulves. Despite my every attempt to call out to her, I found myself physically restrained from opening my mouth.

I looked down to see my own hands forcing my mouth closed, with nothing but a strange song filling my head.

Ruby jumped high into the air, creating a black and red silhouette between me and the moonlight.

 _'Red like roses fills my dreams and brings me to the place you rest.  
White is cold and always yearning, burdened by a royal test.  
Black the beast descends from shadows.  
Yellow beauty burns gold.'_

My soul burned. I fell unconscious.

-XXXXX-

Ouch. My brain hurts.

I was brought back by a handful of huntsmen after they heard Ruby's little fight. They gave her and I a good scolding, but I could care less.

My head hurt so much. The huntsmen leading this extermination heard my case and are going to let me rest for a good long time. Basically, all of today is free.

But my head hurts _so fucking much_.

-XXXXX-

I've got to find a guitar. Those notes in my notebook are a song. A song I know, just like how I heard those lyrics when I saw Ruby.

I wrote them all down on those same pages. This is important.

-XXXXX-

I walked all over the village today. Finally found an acoustic guitar.

Did a bit of dusting and tuned the thing. Nobody used it in a long while, it seems. I haven't played guitar since before I was born. 15 years of me being out of practice?

Do I even remember how to play?

The answer is yes. I brought the guitar to my bed and played with it for a few seconds before I grabbed the notebook and thumbed over to the pages that held the song.

The strumming attracted a few glances, but that was aside the point.

-XXXXX-

This song!

This is Red Like Roses!

I played like I never have before. My classmates gathered around me as they listened. My splitting head's pain numbed as the song ran its course. All I could focus on was not messing up.

At its conclusion, I was complimented by my classmates on my instrument. Some even clapped.

Someone told me that I should go pro. That I'd make a killing with songs like that. Truth be told, I'm considering it now.

The extermination was a success. The first-years got some good experience without being in too much danger, the village area was notably safer, and the third-years were there.

Yeah, I think it was a waste of our time. Thankfully, we get a week off from class and I plan on making the most out of that time.

I played Red Like Roses over and over again, day after day. Dez took notice.

"What's up?" she asked as I cussed under my breath. I couldn't sing the lyrics because of my voice. Or rather... it didn't sound right.

"Could you do me a favor, Dee?" She pulled her head back. "Can you sing this for me?"

"What? No. I can't sing."

"I've heard you sing before, nice try." She does have a nice voice. She tries to hide it, but like... I'm her brother? I've heard her sing more times than she thinks. Also, she isn't exactly conscious when she's been freshly woken up.

She was rather bullheaded on convincing me that she couldn't sing, but I was persistent on insisting she could. A solid 15 minutes of that was the only thing that kept her from trying it out. When she did, though?

It was perfect.

-XXXXX-

Winter break started. Dez and I are gonna be taking turns doing favors for Junior.

'this just in'  
'that person looking for u came in again'

I fumbled my scroll. Well, that's not good.

What is good is that I was on my way there anyway. Wait, maybe that isn't good...

Because when I say "on my way there," I mean that I am there. Junior wanted me to take care of a "package."

I ignored the crowded dance floor and headed straight for the bar. Miltia tended the drinks with one of Junior's men, Scotch. Miltia slid her card across the bar into my hand smoothly and I advanced to the VIP room. The skull-rattling music lost significant volume and allowed me to assess the situation and my thoughts. Whoever it is must still be here.

The card Miltia slid to me keyed the door open, Junior sitting on one side of the L shaped sofa and a figure of medium height standing across from him. Their concealed face flicked to me, but they did nothing else. If I let them know that I knew they were looking for me, then that would not only put me in danger, but also Junior's reputation. And that would suck, to say the least.

"Is this the client?" Starting small, I misled the stalker as my left hand fell to my mask. If I was to do some runs at night, then I had to look like I was doing the part. All black: jeans, belt, hoodie, shoes. Thunderstruck would be a pretty big liability since someone could easily see and recognize me from it. TUS is a new addition; while I would prefer to flesh out how to fight with it first, a new weapon would be better than literally nothing. It was also simple to conceal since I made an armpit holster in like a day. That's all I really want to say.

"No, this is just a curious passerby." the establishment's owner answered. Melanie stepped out from behind the room's private bar with a half-empty bottle of alcohol and poured out three glasses. She presented the glasses to Junior, who took it and drank immediately; then to the person, who only waved their hand to deny the drink; then to me. I accepted the drink and asked,

"Why don't you take that then?" to Melanie. She apparently hadn't considered that and took the glass.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt." We clinked our drinks together and then it was onto business with me.

"Should I wait for my turn, Junior?" I handed the shotglass back to Melanie and pointed with the same hand to the door. "This looks important." He nodded.

"Yeah. I'll call for you." I left the room to go back to the main bar. The VIP room was soundproofed so there was no reason to try to eavesdrop.

After a little time talking small with Miltia and Scotch, Junior called me in. He discussed the details such as pickup and delivery.

This would be my 13th run now? I kept a proper log but couldn't trouble myself to check on it. Just a few more and I'll be on almost even terms with Junior.

I stopped by the pickup location, a dumpster behind a plaza a decent ways off from the club. It was a simple rucksack. I took a quick peek inside to confirm that both the chain and the dust powered motor were indeed items enclosed.

The route brought me to the White Fang infested south end of Vale. The bag was deposited into another dumpster and I scaled the building it was up against. Now I had to make sure somebody picked up the package

You know, I really hate how Junior schedules the pickups on the other side. As soon as I got comfortable, the receiver came over. A man with wild black hair and apparently no sleeves discreetly retrieved the bag and my job was done. Also, I can't help but feel that I'll be seeing that guy again.

So I began the run back to the bar to receive my meager payment.

50 lien. It's quite reduced from the original price, but it's more than I would expect.

I get to pay off my debt to Junior and I still get a little cherry on top. Now, I say pay off my debt, but in truth I don't owe him anything anymore. I paid him off a few deliveries ago and I'm currently filling up on favors from him so that he wouldn't be as angry at me when I turn Yang his way. How fortunate I am to have met him?

The lien was a welcome addition to my wallet, but the enjoyment I derived from getting paid ended short.

"Gainsboro Argent." TUS was in my hand in a flash aimed at the cloaked figure from before. They didn't even flinch.

"You know, I really don't like when people know my name but I don't know theirs." I kept my confidence and held the handcannon up. Any time I lost would be time they gained if they planned on starting something here.

"Come with me," they said through the black helmet. "I can clear things up for you."

"I have no business with you. Forget I was even here." TUS was _not_ moving from their face.

"I can promise you that you want to be with my society." Their hands slowly moved up their body to their face. A dark hiss later and the helmet was off. My hand lowered impulsively.

I couldn't find myself able to speak.

"Come with me."

I followed Celeste through the darkness of Vale.

-XXXXX-

(A/N: Hey everyone! Rico back at it again!

Thank you for your patience and for following my story! It means a lot to me and especially now with how COVID is treating all of us. Things have been pretty crazy on my end which is why I took a while before I could upload this. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it!

Cheers, Rico.)


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